It's been a little crazy

Those were the salad days, the halcyon years! The sleepless nights, the wailing babies; the days the interior of the house looked like it had been hit by a hurricane; the times I had five kids, a chimpanzee, and a wife in bed with fever. Even when the fourth glass of milk got spilled in a single night, or the shrill screeching threatened to split my skull, or when I was bailing out some son or other...They were good years, grand years.

But it all zipped by.

My friend Kirsten just posted THIS on her blog and it really encouraged me. She quoted this quote above from Water for Elephants, and it sums it all up.

Noah is four, and so it has been a LONG time since he was a newborn, but he cried all the time. ALL THE TIME. But somehow I have forgotten really. I even said something to my dad about him not being that bad, and he reminded me how bad it was.

And then Hudson cried quite a bit. He had reflux, so it was different, but still a lot.

Then there is Eli. I am honestly at a loss. He cries, and cries, and cries. It is mostly at night, but that is when my patience level is not very much. I am tired. Really super, duper tired. I have been keeping it together most of the time, and only flipped out a few times since he was born, and yesterday, I snapped.

I feel like I am doing everything that I can...cut out ALL dairy, most soy, and other gassy foods, swaddling, all the magic colic tinctures, all the books, prayer, and we just cannot seem to get him better. He will have moments when I think he is better, only to have it change.

I know that it is just a season. I have two adorable boys who grew out of it. That is not the problem. It is getting through this one. And the fact that I feel like it is my fault. He is in pain and I cannot help him.

But I have to trust that God is in control, that Eli is not going to hate me in 20 years, and that I am going to miss this. Even the nights when I am bouncing on a pilates ball, holding a screaming baby, while covered in spit-up.