Letters to Max - Just inconsolable

Dear Max,

I hate it when things don’t go to plan. And you are probably the epitome of things not going to plan. I rushed to get your milk heated up as you were making a fuss, only to find that you had calmed down with the pacifier by the time the milk had warmed up. Instead of a full 120ml feed you only managed to take 70ml, 50ml down the drain. Formula is cheap but I think it’s more the effort trying to decipher what you want and the lack of feedback.

This was on top of the witching hour where you were just inconsolable once again. THis was yet on top of us trying to figure out if infant care was even an option. And after hearing from our friends who had sent their kids to both infant and childcare, it’s certainly not a straightforwad choice. There’s this additional dimension of you falling sick, which I can’t even begin to contemplate since you’re already a handful without even being sick or god forbid colicky. And like we discussed with your momma today, there’s a low chance since you seem fine now, but special needs concerns are certainly not off the table.

I remember the hardship and the pain my momma went through when I had childhood asthma and I certainly wouldn’t want to wish it on you or on us. But it’s too late now and I’m not sure what to do. There’s a certain sense of stuckness and powerlessness of the situation. Anything that reminds me of things we used to do, things we used to be able to do, or now, anytime your momma talks about her momma ( which is kind of the reason you exist ), it makes me kinda sad that this is my life now and likely to be the case for a while. Don’t even get me started on the sleep deprivation, which is likely part of the reason why I’m frustrated and writing this.

I like clean, nice rules, and I like being told what to do. This is probably as far away as I can get from that. Man up, you chose this, this too shall pass only goes so far when faced with an inconsolable kiddo like you. Or an unpredictable one.