Noisy Nelly

We finally figured it out. We think. All the crying and screaming IN OUR FACES. 

You are at war. With yourself.

You have serious gas. Bubble guts. Burpies from hell.

Loud, rumbling, RoqueRoqueRoqueRoque gurglings from deep within your baby belly that need an exorcism.

We can hear the effervescence in your tummy. And unless we sit you upright for 20 minutes and pat you on the back nonstop like a millennial at work, you will projectile vomit curdled milk at a time and place of your choosing, usually all over at least three pieces of clothing I'm currently wearing and it's a bonus if you get it in my hair. Typically you do this at night, right after I've showered and I'm all ready for bed. As they say, timing is everything!

This gas explains why you were such a Mankey in the first 4 weeks of life. You got a bad rap for all the hollering and screaming. You just needed some good deep burps and a couple of toots. 

And all the farm animal noises at night--that's gotten so much better now that I know the secret to putting you down. Right around week 5 we got into power-burping mode. We stay upright until I hear at least 3 burps and then I slowly cantilever you into a horizontal position. If you're still struggling and grunting, then we go vertical for a few more minutes. Aside from my wrists developing carpal-tunnel pain from hoisting you up and down and patting your back nonstop, this system appears to be working. For the past 2 weeks, you've quieted down.

Gone are the grunts and chain of ahem ahem AHEM throat clearing sounds you would make like you were about to give the commencement speech at Harvard and no one was paying attention. All this time you had some kind of gas or reflux. That explains it! You had the baby demons. You are not yourself a baby demon. I mean, not that we thought that or anything.

Not quite gone are the nights of nervously listening and wondering if your tiny baby grunts will turn into a full blown PICK ME UP NOW OR EVERYONE DIES cry. That still happens on occasion. 

My other attempt at solving the gas/reflux/baby GERD issue is homeopathic. A liquid, grape flavored elixir. Not sure if it is actually helping but apparently it really can't hurt because as The Good Doctor told me, homeopathic medicine does NOT, as I thought, mean that it's an all natural remedy. I thought homeopathic meant wholesome, natural, herbal. Like something you could find in or around your home, to make a pathway to healing. Like it sounds. Home Eee Oh Pathic. This is how I make my way through much of life. Sounding things out.

Apparently it means taking some sort of medicine and diluting it a zillion parts to one. Allegedly.

Me: I got this great stuff for the baby's gas. It's good--homeopathic stuff. Amazon Prime. It will be here tomorrow. 

Him: Homeopathic? Do you know what that means?

Me: (Giving my sound and logical explanation from above.) It means it's all natural, duh.

Him: No. It means it's medicine that has been super watered down. So it's like giving her water drops. 

Me: Are you sure? It got 5 stars. My friend's sister swears by it. Grape flavored too. It costs $10!

Him: Shaking his head. 

When the bottle came, the directions said to give .3ml every 15 minutes up to 8 times in a row. Lending some proof to what The Good Doctor said.

Him: See? It's like giving her 2 drops of water every 15 minutes. Good purchase Vic. 

In any case, we're going to use up all this flavored water just in case because even if it doesn't help, it's about as powerful as tap water. And 5 years from now we'll know why you love grape Bubble Yum.

Vicky NguyenComment