This is where I admit my Hypochondriac Mother Instinct is more difficult to curb because of the extra chromosome. Mariana had a bad few days. It started Thursday night when she cried, for no reason, for an hour and a half until Scott pulled in the driveway. Once Daddy was home to witness, she promptly fell into an angelic sleep leaving me to look spectacularly bedraggled. I wonder what it looked like for Scott to pull up to his home with his wife outside looking like 6 kinds of hell while the baby looked like faeries gathered to create a perfect baby figurine. I was outside because Paul was screaming, "MOMMY WHY IS MARIANA CRYING? TELL HER TO STOP! FIX IT! SHE NEEDS A DOCTOR!" And the girls sang the refrain that usually cheers their sister, "Mari-ana, Mari-mari-ana!" to the tune of "Alluette" over 1,000 times only increasing our household stress by a million.
So. Yes, that happened Thursday night, and then again Friday evening. I also have been suffering, with saintly fortitude, seasonal allergies that I have refused to medicate (except at night with a single Benedryl) in case a drop of medication sullies the milk I feed my sweet princess. And have I mentioned that no one in this god-forsaken house sleeps anymore? My bed is infested with humans, most of whom smell like sweat and bad breath. (Not my husband, of course, he smells like masculinity and devotion.) At any rate, is it any wonder the siren song of Doctor Google was calling to me?
I am happy to report I did NOT Google Mariana's symptoms which were; crying, screaming, day-time wakefulness, irritability if not carried constantly, and pooping in her diaper. I just knew Dr. G would return with ALL IS LOST, THE APOCALYPSE IS UPON YOU, TAKE COVER, WRITE YOUR WILL and POSTPARTUM PSYCHOSIS AS MANIFESTED BY INCESSANT GOOGLING. The strength of my will is astounding, I know. However, by Sunday morning, she was my sweet baby Mae again.
Though she didn't sleep much last night, which is probably a symptom of Hating Your Mother.
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