"He's such a happy baby!"

This afternoon, I was sitting out on the porch with Mal, and as people walked by, he'd grin and flirt with them. Two people commented, "He's such a happy baby!"

What they didn't know is that I was sitting on the porch waiting for my husband to get home. I'd called him at work fifteen minutes earlier, sobbing hysterically that I needed him to come home, because Mal had been fussing/crying/screaming all morning. I was worn out and frustrated, and my frustration had turned to fury -- not at Mal, of course, because this isn't his fault -- but I'd slammed my fists down on the mats in Mal's room and it scared him, which made him cry even more, then I was all shaky and couldn't feel my legs, and... I called James. I'd have called my sister if she hadn't been working all day. But I couldn't take being alone anymore and I was scared.

My sister had posted a picture of Mal on Instagram yesterday, and so many people said the same thing: "He's a happy little guy!"

And his overall disposition *is* happy. Thing is, there is something physiologically that bothers him. A lot. And even then, he wants to be happy; we've seen him giggling through tears before the crying takes over often. 

So I'd spent all morning trying different things. Want to lie and play in the gym? That works for a couple of min-- Whoops! He's upset now. Want to nurse? No. Okay, want me to rock you? Aww, he likes that-- Not anymore! Um, I'll strap you on and we'll sweep! No. I'll just sit here and hold you... Well, you don't like that, either. How about a bath? Yea! He's happy! Except now he is screaming like someone stabbed him. And he's in the water. What happened?

This is what wears me out. And then these thoughts fill up my brain: I miss my daughter. I am constantly leaving the room she's in because Mal is crying. I like sitting out on the porch but I miss hanging out with her. And the books all say to be ready to talk to your kid when they're getting ready for bed because that's when they are open, but by the time she heads off to bed, I've already been crashed out or three or four hours. I can't buy my own groceries. I can't clean my own house. Many times, I can't even make dinner for my family. The only reason that happens pretty regularly is because of the crock pot, so whenever I get a few moments I can throw things in. What is wrong with me? It's been four months. People have babies all of the time. It doesn't break them the way it breaks me. They can handle it. Daphne's dad wanted a divorce by the time Daphne was a year old. I think he thought I was crazy. He told me he didn't trust me as a partner. James says he won't. But I certainly feel crazy sometimes. I'd love to get a babysitter and go out to dinner with James, or somewhere special with Daphne. But we can't do that yet. There is never any kind of break for me. It's relentless and exhausting. And I love this little boy who's awake now and staring up at me, and if he'd just be this chill most of the time I feel like I could handle it. I don't feel like I'm handling it now, though.

And today, before I called James, I wondered who I'd call if James couldn't come. Who do you call and say, "I think I'm losing my grip on reality because there's no way anyone should be this out of control in the presence of a small child"? 

Now, before anyone says anything, know a couple of things: 1) Mal is medically fine. He's likely teething and some of the colic has come back. The doctor is not worried about him. 2) I'm not going to hurt him or myself or anything. I'm just humiliated and sort of hopeless because of my poor handling of the constant fuss-to-cry-to-screaming that I know logically and that you people keep telling me won't last forever... but in the moments, it feels like it might just last forever. It's been four months, a third of a year. It might last a year. It might last two. That might as well be forever now. I want my boy to feel good. I want him to be as happy as he is when his nervous system or whatever isn't telling him to freak out.

Why am I writing this, and publishing it? Well, first, I want to remember. Second, I want to be real. If you have a little one, and especially if it wasn't an easy thing and you're wondering now why it's so hard and why you're not happy every second, I want to let you know that other people have a hard time, too, and that you're not alone. Third, I want to ask for people to stop saying Mal's growing up "too fast" because I am ready for him to outgrow this thing that is making him miserable.

While we're at it, may I ask to put one other thing on the "no fly zone" for things to say? "His fussing stresses you out more than it does (me, us, anyone else, etc.)." NO DUH. Don't feel like I'm calling anyone specific out because probably a half dozen people have said this to me, as I'm packing Mal up to remove him from wherever we are. Yes, I understand he might not be getting on your nerves, but I know what's coming and it's worse. Also, trying to manage him at home is difficult enough; doing it elsewhere is about ten times more stressful. I am leaving for *me*. Please don't be offended. I need the comfort of my home to help balance the discomfort of Mal's unsoothable episodes.

So, yeah, I guess that's it. Thanks for everyone who is praying for us. I hope you'll keep it up. Vacation's in two days, whether we're ready or not... And I definitely feel like we were being extremely optimistic when we planned this. I was thinking of Daphne, and should have realized that no two babies are alike.