Welcome to the Hood Pt.7. Plump-cheeked-brown-eyed-screaming-banshee

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
​Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

My son
has enormous brown eyes
smooth, plump cheeks,
and a little button chin
that can melt your heart
like butter in the microwave

When you blow raspberries in his neck
his giggles spill over like a waterfall
and your melted-butter-heart explodes with joy

My son
has fresh eyes for the world
a wide, open heart
and I cannot tell him how much I love him
cannot kiss, cuddle, tickle, snuggle-the-poop out of him anywhere near enough

I have an abundance 
of that weird, want-to-squeeze-and-use-naughty-words-to-describe-the-intensity-of-my-love kind of love
(You know the one right?)

My son
also has
a blood curdling
stomach churning
brain deafening
wild banshee scream
with sharp, prickly edges
that can endure, repeat and build in intensity
for small windows of forever

Imagine it for me:
start with one minute
- ask someone you know and love 
to scream at the top of their lungs for one minute

Done?
unpleasant but not that big a deal.

Now, ask them to do it for 15 minutes.
you can cuddle the participating loved one if you want
but they have to keep screaming

Less fun
but you are strong and patient and super zen and no simple scream is going to phase you
particularly not from a loved one with enormous brown eyes, smooth, plump cheeks and waterfall giggles

Now try, 
45 minutes
in the confined cabin of a car
which you are driving
in peak hour traffic
no cuddles
you can
talk
sing
change the radio station
play gentle lullabies
or fascinating podcasts
wind the windows down or up

but the screaming isn’t going to stop.

Still feeling super zen?

Now try, 
one hour in the middle of the night. 
or just the whole night. 
or basically every whole night for several months on end

This is reflux disease.

I know there are elements of what I have just described
that are part and parcel of every experience of parenthood
but when every feeding experience
is followed by burning acid travelling up your little one’s throat
and horrendous screams that are only calmed down
by feeding
which leads to more burning acid
more screams
etc
it does magnify things a little
turns the entree into a 9 course degustation
the window becomes the house
the puddle becomes an ocean

and
there are these moments
when the convulsing bundle in your arms
or in the back of your car
is scraping fingernails all over your chalkboard heart 
peeling back layers of your sanity

and in these moments, 
you feel and think crazy things

things I struggle to even write down

and you realise 
even loving your own flesh and blood can be pretty complicated
pretty bloody hard at times

and it’s one thing to melt over those
enormous brown eyes
plump cheeks
and button chin

but how I respond to,
wait with,
talk to,
stick around for,
don’t throw,
cry with
this little screamer in my arms...
this has more to teach me about love 
than cuteness does

this is where a parent grows muscles
through gritted teeth

sometimes love might look more like not throwing your baby across the room
than cuddles, kisses and raspberries

My son
has fresh eyes for the world
a wide, open heart
and I cannot tell him how much I love him
cannot kiss, cuddle, tickle, snuggle-the-poop out of him anywhere near enough

My son
also has
a blood curdling
stomach churning
brain deafening
wild banshee scream
with sharp, prickly edges
that can endure, repeat and build in intensity
for small windows of forever

And I love him to bits.