Colic

We left the hospital hand in hand walking on air as the anticipation of bringing Malia home filled our hearts! We drove the few blocks while Malia slept peacefully, I looked up at Cimmaron to see love and contentment in his eyes and “Life was Wonderful.” We parked under the overhang, I pulled myself to my feet as Cimmaron released Malia from her base, we held hands as he carried Malia to meet her new home for the first time. As we entered our apartment Timbrlee and Breckell came running to greet us. Mom had cleaned the house and made everything look beautiful with welcome home signs and balloons. I bent down to hold my two older babies with smiles on everyone’s faces. The girls got to take another peek at Malia. She was asleep and content, we put her in the nursery and enjoyed the homecoming.

Two days passed, the weight of being pregnant was fading, I could stand longer and lay on my stomach! When I rolled in bed the pain wasn’t so sharp, although I am sure the Ibuprofen the doctor prescribed helped relieve some of the pain. Life was Wonderful, for the last time in four months.

I woke up November 5^th, Malia was five days old, nursing well, sleeping decent for a new born, and happy. Looking down at her sleeping peacefully, I slipped out of bed and got dressed looking forward to sometime with Timbrlee and Breckell before Malia woke up. I found Mom and the girls in the kitchen eating breakfast, I sat down at the table to join them.

“This is my last day here sweetie,” Mom stated. “Is there anything you would like me to do for you today before I go?”

“No” I replied “you’ve done so much for me already, it must have been a sacrifice for you to leave Dad and come this far, thank you for all you’ve done.”

“It’s not going to be easy taking care of these three little ones, do you have anyone close by to help you when things get hard?” Mom asked

“I have a dear friend Yara, she is always looking out for me and she only lives about a mile away.”

“Oh I am glad you have someone who you feel you can count on.” Mom said.

After morning breakfast we enjoyed the day talking and taking care of the little girls. Mom was preparing to leave the next morning, so after dinner she started packing and I went into my room to nurse Malia. She had been a little fussy throughout the day, new borns are so unpredictable, and I thought she might want to nurse and go to sleep. I fluffed the pillows on our king bed, sat down putting Malia on the bed while I prepared myself to nurse. Her crying increased so I quickened my pace. By the time I picked her up she was screaming, when I attempted to nurse she only screamed louder. It seemed the more I tried to calm her the more upset she got. I stood up and walked to the window bouncing her lightly, patting her back and shoooooo softly in her ear. She arched her back and wailed, pushing herself away from me; I was surprised at her strength. This went on for several minutes, with no change in Malia’s response. Laying her on a blanket I wrapped it tightly around her, and put a pacifier in her mouth, I picked her up once again, yet she was not happy with either of my solutions. In the other room Mom heard the wailing and came to see if I needed any help. 

“She won’t nurse, and I can’t comfort her.” I responded with pleading eyes. Mom lifted Malia from my arms and rocked, bounced and swayed around the room, all the while holding the pacifier in her mouth. Malia kept crying. I hadn’t fed her in several hours and I knew she must be starving, but the natural response to being hungry for a baby is to suck, yet she wouldn’t even suck on the pacifier. Mom laid her on the bed and we changed her semi wet diaper while Malia kept on crying. We changed her clothes and wrapped her up once again in a blanket. No change. After two hours of trying everything a mother of six and a mother of three could think, there was still no change. 

Cimmaron walked through the door about 8:00 p.m. The crying of Malia put a panic look on his face, now we knew we weren’t crazy. This cry was not a normal unhappy baby cry, she was mad and upset and didn’t plan on feeling happy anytime soon. I walked to Cimmaron holding Malia in my arms with a look of plead in my eye. Maybe Cimmaron has the answer I hoped. At this point I was willing to try almost anything to get her soothed and eating. With Cimmaron at home Trudy put the other two girls to bed. I got him up to date on the events of the evening with hopes of a solution. “I am not sure what to do.” He stated. “She’s got to be hungry!” he stated. “I know she is but she won’t eat!” We decided we needed to try any means of getting her to eat. I sat on our bed and tried for 30 minutes to coax her into nursing. She would arch back, and wail as if I was torturing her. In all reality, I was torturing both of us.

I had nursed Timbrlee for a whole year, which was a wonderful bonding time for both of us. Then when Breckell was three months old we went to Arizona to visit my sister While we were there Breckell got very sick she stopped eating. For over 24 hours she was sick and crying, I was on the phone with my Doctor in Logan more than once within that 24 hour period, he advised me to get her nourishment anyway I could. So when all was said and done, my heart broke as we resorted to formula. By the time she got better I was dried up and we bottle fed her for the remaining nine months. I felt sad, as if I wasn’t good enough for her. The doctors thought maybe she had developed an allergy to my milk, it is rare but it does happen. Either way this experience with Malia was a sore reminder of the past with Breckell and almost more than I could bear. More than anything at this time in my life, I wanted to bond with this Special Spirit and have the opportunity to nurse her. I was determined to make this work. I WOULD NOT GIVE HER

FORULA!

I walked out of the room feeling beaten and hopeless and Malia cried on and on. With loving eyes Cimmaron and Mom looked at me and gave me some advice.

“Maybe we should try a bottle.”

“No” I stated, they knew this was the forbidden word, and I was not going to do this, no way, there had to be another solution.

“Maybe if you just put your milk into a bottle, then we could help get her to take it.” Mom suggested.

Feeling like this might help I okayed the plan. Cimmaron washed a bottle while Trudy sterilized the nipple. I rocked Malia in the overstuffed lazy boy while she screamed on. Looking down at her pain struck face I felt so helpless. Going into a night clinic might be our next option, not that I even knew what was wrong with her. I mean she’s a baby…..she’s crying…..she hasn’t eaten in what seven hours now….this doesn’t carry a strong enough case to put before a doctor, at least not yet; if we could just get some food into her then I know she will feel better. While I rocked my baby and straining to think of any other possible solution, Cimmaron came up behind me holding the prepared bottle with my milk in it.

“Would you like me to feed her?”

“No, I think I will.” I replied.

I took the warm bottle from his hand and placed it in her screaming mouth. I jiggled the bottle from one side of her cheek to the other in hopes of her getting a small taste of the liquid. When she didn’t even acknowledge I was there I stood, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other with the bottle still in her mouth. Nothing, just the same crying we had been listening to for the last three hours. I gave up and handed her to Cimmaron, with his a new efforts he walked around the small living room soothing sounds rolling from his lips. He tried this for eight or nine minutes. Then it was Mom’s turn. She too walked, shoooshing, rocking, and bouncing with not so much as a pause from Malia’s constant crying. We were all spent, what more could we do?

Then came the dreaded unspoken thought. “We should try giving her formula.” I didn’t know who had said it, but I was spent, anything at this point to get my baby to eat. I would try anything to get my the Special Spirit some nourishment, even if I would feel betrayed. In all reality I doubt it would work, I mean we have tried everything we could think of to get her happy, why would some stinky formula be any different, sure go ahead, just another idea to be shot down!

I lifted Malia from Mom’s arms and walked around the room while they prepared another bottle, this time with stinky formula. Before I knew it Cimmaron was at my side again with another warm bottle of milk, this time formula. Without asking my opinion this time he lifted Malia from my arms and rocked her for a minute, not that this calmed her in anyway, but just to give him confidence he had done everything needed to prepare to feed her. He placed the bottle to her mouth and wiggled it back and forth so she could get a taste of the fluid. She cried on until a few drops made their way to her tongue, then it was all over, she took hold and started sucking! I was stunned, I watched but I couldn’t believe it, this must be some fluke thing.

“Here let’s give her the bottle with my milk in it now that she is sucking.” Mom retrieved the bottle and quickly replaced my bottle with the formula bottle Malia didn’t even know what hit her, she continued sucking, but only for a second, her wailing returned as if she hadn’t ever stopped, she was mad and she wasn’t afraid to let us know it. Before I could respond Cimmaron grabbed the formula bottle and wiggled it back and forth in her mouth, again she started to suck!

Shock and relief hung in silence over the four of us. I wouldn’t have believed this if I were to hear the story second hand. Yet here I was witnessing the intellect of a five day old child who could tell the difference in the taste, or texture of the liquid she was drinking, she gulped it down as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She finished it off before reality had sunk in. Since we had only made her a small 2oz, Mom quickly made another bottle which Malia drank contently. I numbly walked to my room, shut the door quietly and curled up in a ball on my bed. Cimmaron rocked Malia to sleep and placed her in the nursery. There would be no more tantrums in Malia’s room on this night. But in my bed there were soft, heaving sobs as I cling to my pillow and let all the pain from the past meet with all the pain of tonight engulf me. Cimmaron came in quietly, laid next to me and wrapping his gentle arms around me and rocked while I heaved out my pain on his shoulder. This night had been one of confusion, frustration, relief and now I was left with the pain of it all. The pit in my stomach was heavy, knowing that I couldn’t bring myself to nurse her ever again, the pain was too great, almost more than I could bear.

I feel asleep crying in Cimmaron’s arms and when I awoke he had already left for morning classes. The horror from last night came flooding back to me. I laid there listening to the giggles of Timbrlee and Breckell eating with Mom in the kitchen. They were singing a funny song as they ate. She was so good with the children, they seemed to gravitate to her. What an angel she had been the night before, how grateful I was she had been here last night. Now she was leaving, headed home to Dad and I would miss her terribly, but I knew I couldn’t ask her to stay, that would have been selfish when she had given so freely of herself. Now it was time for her to be home with Dad. So I pulled on my pajamas and walked into the kitchen with a happy face. When she saw me she got up from the table and came to me with open arms, no words, just love, my smile dropped and tears flowed all over again.

“I just can’t leave you like this” she stated. I had resolved to let her go and not let my selfish needs get in the way of her plans.

“I will be okay,” I promised, not really even sure how I could make it through another horror night like the last. “ I can call Yara if I need anything, she will help me out.” I promised.

She pulled me back looking into my wet eyes and asked “What can I do for you?” “Mom, you’ve already done so much, I couldn’t ask any more of you.”

"I’ll do whatever you want me to do, should I stay a few more days?” the reality of her staying longer was inviting, I almost said yes, but I vowed not to let my needs get in the way of her plans.

"No, things are going to get better.” We embraced, I tucked away my tears, put on a smile and whispered “thank you.”

By the afternoon she had packed up her things in the tan Honda Accord . We waved goodbye to mom then, shuffled the girls inside and away from the cold. I slid the door shut and heaved a long sigh

“okay, it’s all up to me now.” I looked at Malia in her swing she was not happy, she had taken the bottle okay but constantly seemed uncomfortable and fussy.

By her two week check up I was sure something was very wrong. All us girls pilled into the Honda van and I drove 10 minutes to Malia’s pediatrician Dr. Russel. She cried the whole way there. I released her from her base and carried her inside. After a short wait we found ourselves sitting in a waiting room, I unbuckled Malia and tried to calm her down with a pacifier, bouncing, rocking, and shooshing but the doctor entered the room with her in a full wail. A look of concern crossed his face as I rehearsed the events of the past two weeks. He took her temperature, felt her tummy, and looked in her ears, eyes, mouth and nose. All the while asking me questions about her sleeping pattern, feeding times, bowl movements etc. hoping that something would trigger a red light. Then he turned to me with pain in his eyes, my stomach turned and I feared the worst. Bring it on I thought let me know what we need to do to fix her up and get her happy and healthy again. I would do anything to help her feel good, does she have a tumor, maybe one of her organs are to big, what is it? Just tell me so we can fix her! The words I heard exit his mouth were more painful than I had anticipated. “COLIC”…..colic, no, no the dreaded word. The word that means there is no hope for your child to stop crying until they are three months old, one of the sicknesses doctors don’t have answers for.

“It’s an abdominal pain resulting from trapped gas in the digestive tract.” My doctor continued. “Most babies out grow it by the time they are three months. If you will hold her upright, with one arm under her diaper and the other across her abdomen, like this.” He said putting Malia upright “This does seem to lessen the pain. “I’m sorry I wish there was more I could do for you. Please call me if you need anything, here is my home phone, you can call day or night.” With those soothing words and advise he walked out of the room.

In reality colic could be any number of things, gastroesophageal reflux, lactose intolerance, just about anything to do with the digestive track! Since it only lasts three months I am sure there aren’t many labs working hard to find a cure for a three month illness. This is fine for the majority of the people in the world. But when a mother of a new born hears the word COLIC, we see three long months of a crying baby with no hope in between.

Yet Dr.. Russel did give me some sound advice “if you ever feel like you want to hurt her, or your out of control, just set her down, walk away and let her cry while you leave the room to calm down.”

Little did I know this advise would give me a ticket to sanity when I had no ride left. I walked out of the office feeling more hopeless and alone than I had felt in years. My Special Spirit, the one God told me would fill our home with joy..... would now fill our home with crying. I dragged my feet to the van feeling the prison bars enclose me once more.

I cracked my eyes just enough to see Cimmaron roll out of bed, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the water, I wanted to see him if only for a few minutes. All the girls were still sleeping and these precious minutes we had alone felt short, and very far in between. I crawled out of bed, and walked to his side. It had been four weeks since my visit with Dr. Russel, FOUR LONG WEEKS. As I wrapped my arms around his waist I caught his look of concern.

“You don’t look so good” he said. The past four weeks had caught up with me and I no longer looked or felt human. There was no point in getting out of my pajamas, or even looking in the mirror, nobody came to visit or hardly called, not that I blame them, who would if all they had to hear was the constant back ground noise of a child screaming.

I clung to Cimmaron wishing he could stay home for a day and help me. I knew this road had an end, but the road seemed so long already and it wasn’t even half over. He turned to me and said the words I hadn’t dare utter, but he knew somehow that I felt them.

“You must feel a dread getting out of bed every morning knowing you have to listen to Malia cry, and knowing there’s nothing you can do for her.” Just hearing those understanding words racked my body, maybe he did understand a particle of what I was going through.

“Yes, and when I wake up, I wish is it was night again” He held me in his arms and rocked me, “I’m so sorry, I wish I could help more and be here for you.”

The hard reality is, nobody could take this away, this was my lot, this was my time to be tried and tested. The only expectation I had for myself was to stay sane, I knew if I could last three months things would get better...

Taking those extra five minutes with me made Cimmaron rush to get out the door, I sent him with a banana for breakfast and a promise from him that he would call at lunch. We kissed at the front door and he was gone, I starred outside, it seemed like another world, where I couldn’t venture. The Logan bowl was covered in snow. At least two feet deep maybe more. The temperatures low was -12 and on a good day we might reach zero, if the sun came out which it rarely did, in fact we were in a bowl and being in a bowl with over cast only means one thing, inversions. There were signs up on all main roads warning people from being outside because it was hazardous for our health. Thus we stayed inside, to protect our new baby from the poisonous air. . I closed the door softly just in time to hear Malia cry. The weight Cimmaron had lifted from my shoulders in those few short minutes came down harder than ever at the sound of Malia. I walked slowly to her car seat where she now slept every night. She seemed to sleep better sitting up, this way I could also rock her. I lifted her up while she wailed, and placed her on the diaper changer to change her diaper and clothes. Even though she was my third girl and she cried all day, I still found some sanity in having her look cute. So I usually had her dressed in something she could squirm in and scream, but also an outfit she looked cute in doing it.

As I carried her to the kitchen we had to pass Timbrlee and Breckell’s room so with Malia crying her daily cries, naturally they woke up as well. I warmed up Malia’s bottle while Timbrlee and Breckell jumped around me asking for a drink, cereal and fruit. with all three shouting, yelling and crying I had to pick my battles carefully. I had learned Malia takes a lot more time and energy so if I could get Timbrlee and Breckell fed then I could attend to Malia with less havoc. Placing her in the bouncer to cry I set the girls up with breakfast. After their mouths were busy chewing. I picked up Malia to feed her a bottle. She did enjoy eating and this was one of the only cry free moments throughout the day. So with the girls all eating I rocked Malia in the chair dreading the beginning of another long day.

Burping a crying baby takes twice as long as a happy baby, air is going in and out so fast it’s near impossible when they are sucking in air faster than they can burp it out. This in it’s self took half an hour if it was a good day.

I placed her in the swing while she wailed. Dragged my feet to the kitchen I cleared the breakfast dishes and nibbled on some fruit. After wiping down the kitchen I walked to the girl’s room “We want to play in the snow!” Timbrlee insisted.

“It’s so cold out there.” I respond.

“No it’s not!” she shouted.

“Sweetie the air is bad to breath, it can make you sick.”

“No it won’t!”

“I’m sorry but we can’t play outside until the air is clean.”

“No, no” Breckell and Timbrlee joined in unison.

Two and three year olds don’t listen to logic and don’t have a desire to learn any. They wanted to go outside and nothing I could say convinced them other wise. When it came down to it “No” was all I could say. They threw themselves on the floor and cried. I stood in the hallway at one end Malia was wailing and the other Timbrlee and Breckell crying because I’m not fair. I took my Doctors advise, I walked into my bedroom and closed the door, I could still hear all three crying so I went into my small walk in closet with just enough room to kneel, and I closed the door with the sound of them crying still on my ears, so I bawled too. On my knees, hands over my face hunched over rocking myself; the tears came easily now, the pain had been present for so long with overwhelming obstacle, I clung to the darkness hoping to disappear. The ache of having no one who could help, no family who lived close, I started to pray. I plead with the Lord to give me peace, to help me through this time where I knew I couldn’t do this for another moment. The yearning sobs come on stronger and my cries entered the girl’s ears. They found me hunched over in my closet, face in hands and wet with slobber and tears. Even as I looked up at the two small children wide eyed before me I could not stop. They ran to me for comfort for the confusion they felt and we all cried there in the closet together, as I rocked all three of us back and forth.

Children seem to bounce easier and let things go, their cries soon turned into the next fun activity.

“Can we have some crackers mommy?” Timbrlee asked. “I want a puzzle.” Breckell piped up.

“Oh, mommy can Olivia come over?” Timbrlee’s eyes shinning. My heart wrenched within my chest, I needed more time, facing Malia still seemed unbearable. With tears falling over my red soaked face I respond

“I will get a snack and puzzle for you in just a minute okay.”

“Okay mommy” they chirped. As they exited the closet my thoughts turned to Yara whom I had promised my mother I would ask for help. Yara was in Illinois taking care of her sister who gave birth to quintuplets a few days before Malia’s birth.

I had nobody left on this earth who could save me. Reality hit, this time numbness crept through me. There was no way out, this was my life, I had to face it but not completely alone.

“Heavenly Father,” I started “I feel utterly alone, just the thought of walking out of this closet seems impossible. I cannot do this without you, please please….help me.” I begged. Heavy sobs shook my body, no more words came. I held myself and rocked while silently pleading for help. I stayed this way, kneeling, bent over myself crying. But tears do have to dry, and I did have to try again even if I was set up to fail.

Strength crept slowly. I breathed in a long sigh, my mind started to clear “I can do this, with God’s help, I know I can do this.” Giving myself a pep talk. I took a few more deep breaths and walked from my closet. As I reached my bedroom door I could hear Malia once again, nothing had changed, she was still as mad as before. I turned the corner and walked down the small hallway. I found Timbrlee and Breckell trying to give Malia a pacifier and rocking her. We all felt helpless, we all wanted to help her but we didn’t know how.

“Thank you girls for trying to help her be happy,.” I managed to say. Stopping the swing I unbuckled Malia, and lifted her out, as I wrapped her in a blanket I smelt a dirty diaper. I walked into the nursery/office to change her. The dirty diapers brought a small

relief, this was something I could help her with, something I knew I could do right, and I enjoyed even this small task.

It was now close to 10:00 a.m. the time where I would attempt to lay her down for a nap. I placed her in her car seat, turned on a monitor that makes noise, and with one hand I held the pacifier in her mouth as she contorted around in fierce screams; with the other hand I rocked her slowly. This routine lasted until my hands, arms, and legs, fell asleep. After about 45 minutes, I might get lucky and she would fall asleep for ten minutes. Ten short minutes. If it was a bad day which was more common, she would end up madder than when I started.

Two weeks later, our new family loaded into the van attempting the impossible. Driving the short distance to our new church building, we had a boundary change three weeks before Malia was born, we didn’t know anyone and they didn’t know us. Yet we knew we needed to begin life again with a new born, weather she had colic or not. We parked in the snow covered parking lot and climbed out of van, Cimmaron released Malia from her base and carried the crying infant into the church speed walking over the salt covered sidewalk. I unbuckled Timbrlee and Breckell, picking them both up, one in each arm, sliding the door closed with my pinkie finger I treaded through the heaps of snow until we made it to the sidewalk. Setting both girls on their feet I held their hands as we attempted to walk into the building. Breckell broke from my grasp and headed for the snow, I lunged for her hand, and just as I did Timbrlee broke free in the opposite direction toward the parking lot. I lurched for her, but she had made it to the parking lot now. I watched in slow motion as she slid across the ice and landed on her back end. I made it to her side, pulled her up, and brushed the snow from her clothes. Big warm tears trickled down to her chin, but I didn’t have any time for sympathy yet, where was

Breckell? Carefully making my way to the sidewalk, Timbrlee on my hip I scanned the area for Breckell. Catching the glimpse of a small dot running towards the other end of the parking lot, I ran lugging Timbrlee. I was closing in on her as an older woman approached Breckell, she caught hold of her hand and led her towards me. We met at the end of the sidewalk, with a judging glare she stated

“you’d better keep a closer watch on your children.”

“Thank you for your help.” Was all I could muster, I had no fight left, just more pain and inadequacy dripped into my heart, as I silently agreed with her scold. Reaching the doors of the church I peeled off the girl’s coats, their dresses and tights wet now

“What happened?” Cimmaron questioned. “the girls ran away from me, Timbrlee fell on the road, Breckell ran the opposite way, a lady caught her and told me I was an awful mom, which I am, I can’t do anything right.” My tone lifeless.

He stared at me. “I’m sorry,” wrapping his gentle arm around me not knowing what else to say.

“I’m wet mommy!” Timbrlee complained.

“Me too!” Breckell repeated. Malia all the while crying in the back ground.

“why don’t you go into the chapel and I’ll stay out here with Malia.” Cimmaron volunteered. The thought of no crying in my ear was all to inviting.

“Okay, we will meet you here after sacrament meeting.” we planned. We were late now, making our way to some folding chairs in the back of the chapel. I pulled out some coloring books and snacks. The speaker was a young returned missionary whom I had never met since we were new to the church. It didn’t matter what he said, the voice of a human without background screaming was all I needed to find peace. It was music to my ears, and I enjoyed every minute of it. All too soon the fist meeting ended. Cimmaron met me with strung out eyes, “can we trade now?” He pleaded.

Feeling somewhat refreshed I took Malia while Cimmaron escorted the girls to class. Sunday School had started and most people were in class already, I circled the halls aimlessly. Nobody knew me, so I was given some judging looks as if to say “why don’t you do more for your child then just walk the halls with her? Feed her, change her, anything as long as we don’t have to listen to her cry!” They were right, I knew it, and I shouldn’t be here disturbing everyone around me with the cries of my child.

Thus I stayed home from church, outings, shopping, and friends houses because nobody wanted me with my crying baby. There’s a frazzled feeling everyone seems to get when a baby is crying uncontrollably. It’s almost an instinct we want to try every means possible to calm the precious child. Yet when there is nothing left to do, the frazzled feeling turns into a numb, thin, distant void leaving you without emotion.

Timbrlee and Breckell had long gotten use to the fact that their baby sister cries, and for the most part they adapted well to their new situation. How grateful I am they had each other during this hard time, for they could close their bedroom door and go into their own world of make believe blocking out the crying infant. I on the other hand spent most of my day going crazy with the idea that I could do something to help her feel more comfortable. I seemed to go through a routine, of changing her diaper, feeding, burping, rocking her, changing her clothes, bathing her and on and on and on. Engulfed in the idea made me close to mad, for as the weeks wore on and my efforts were in vain, the frustration built up inside. I was helpless, alone and day after day my energy was sapped leaving me drained of all sanity.

Sanity, I needed some sanity. The phone rang, I ran in to answer it ,I didn’t care who it was, I just needed to hear another human beings voice over the age of three, even a telemarketer would be welcomed,.

“His sis,” I heard Sarah say. “Oh Sarah!” I said in a dragged out voice. “I am going insane, Malia cries constantly, I feel so helpless no matter what I do it doesn’t help. I don’t know how long I can hold out, I don’t know what else to do for her.”

We talked about what things I have tried and I admitted I’d had a complete break down. Then she rang music to my ears as she volunteered.

“Let me take Malia for a weekend, even if she screams the whole time I can handle it for a weekend, you’ve been doing it for two months, a weekend won’t kill me.” I broke down in sobs, this was bitter sweet. Yes I wanted silence without a crying baby, but I didn’t know if I could put my new born in even the best of hands. Somehow if I stayed with her, maybe something would change, the motherly instinct clung to some hope of helping her.

“Sarah I can’t do that, I can’t leave her.”

“Stacee, it’s only two days, three at the most, you need it. I will take good care of her I promise.” I had no fight left, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and there was a part of me which longed for quiet sounds. When all was said and done Sarah talked me into taking Malia and Timbrlee. We met half way in Brigham City at a Maverick gas station where I handed my crying two month old over to my precious sister.

“She will cry all day Sarah, she won’t really nap for you either, but at nights she finally gives in.” I instructed. “Also, she eats about every three hours, but rarely can we get her to burp.” I showed her a few ways Dr. Russel had taught me to hold her. “But after an hour your arm gives out, and please if you get frazzle, just leave her to cry while you take a breather.” My list seemed to stretch on and on

“Stacee, I will take good care of her, I promise, you need this, do some things for you this weekend, promise?”

“Yea,” I paused,” “I’ll try.” After our short reunion I watched Sarah climb into her car with Malia’s crying piercing my ears for the last time in two days. Sarah pulled the door closed……..there was silence! No more crying, I listened as cars drove by, gas station pumps beeping and people talking in the distance. Life seemed to still be moving, yet I felt an alien to it all. I scanned the area, for the first time an unexpected arose me…freedom, I could go anywhere, I could go to the store……the store! A place I hadn’t been in over five months. I could go out to eat! Anywhere I wanted!! The reserved feeling when Sarah and I were discussing Malia had fled from my mind as I skipped to the van to peer on Breckell. My precious, quiet Breckell! I jumped into the driver’s side seat and took off! I was a new woman, and I was going to sap every ounce of freedom I had. Breckell and I shopped, first to the mall. I didn’t have much money, but that didn’t stop me. We ate an ice cream in the food court, I laughed at Breckell as she stuck her whole mouth over the double scoop cone. Ice Cream covered her eyelashes, nose, mouth and cheeks! Laugh…..I hadn’t laughed in months, and it felt so good.

After Cimmaron got home we did the unthinkable, we went to dinner! The three of us sat around a corner cubby at Wingers. We talked lightly, as we watched Breckell explore a restaurant for the first time. She picked up the salt shaker, tasting it with her finger, a sour look crossed her mouth. “Ew” she stated, grabbing the pepper before we could stop her black and grey specks clung to the pink tongue. “Hot, hot “ she said flinging her hands over her mouth. Cimmaron grabbed a glass of water, pressed it to her lips as she drank deeply. Ice water splashed onto her pink shirt, but she didn’t notice.

“All done,” she stated wiping a hand over her mouth. Giving us a confused look she announced “that’s yucky!”

Cimmaron and I looked at each other and laughed, it felt so natural to laugh with him, and yet how long had it been since we’d enjoyed each other, weeks, months, I didn’t know, somehow life seemed a blur. Yet sitting here now, Stacee was coming back to life and laughs were replaced with healing reliving tears. Cimmaron let me cry softly on his shoulder, not understanding why, but knowing these tears were good.

With the waitress asking us twice if we wanted anything else, we knew we had outworn our welcome. but I wasn’t ready to go home “can we go shopping?” I asked Cimmaron. “Sure, where do you need to go?” Need, now that was an oxymoron, I needed to be out, did I need to go shopping No! Did I want to? Defiantly yes! “I am sure we can find something I…need.” I teased! Cimmaron chuckled putting his arm around my wist “okay let’s go.” We both felt free, our trial temporarily lifted from us, nothing was going to stand in our way tonight. We ended up at a local grocery store browsing lightly, mostly talking with each other. After an hour of being pushed in a cart Breckell had had enough, since it was an hour past her bedtime, we figured we had better get home. I stood in the check out line with the few items I NEEDED diapers and formula. Yep that was all I really needed at this point in my life.

After reading to Breckell and kissing her good night Cimmaron turned me around to embrace me. He tenderly placed his lips to my ear and whispered quietly “your back.” No more words had to be spoken, this was all that needed to be said.

We woke up lazily on Sunday morning as silence filled the air. No crying baby, no demands, Breckell crawled into bed with us.

“Did you sleep good sweetie?” daddy asked her.

“Yep!”

“Did you dream anything?” I asked. With her two year old vocabulary which was above average she began on a story about a gooey glob chasing a doggie. How many dreams have I missed from my children’s mouths in the last two months? I was missing out on so much, I wanted to know the details of their lives. I yearned to comfort them in the small things, to talk with them about their thoughts and emotions. All I wanted was to be a good mother to our children. Somehow when Malia cried all day I had no emotional energy to give, I was sapped of emotion leaving me distant from my children and life.

Since church was at 11:00 a.m. we mixed up pancakes and enjoyed the stillness of the morning. Church was easy, Breckell played quietly on the seat next to me while Cimmaron and I sat through the whole meeting! We attended Sunday School hand in hand while Breckell played in Nursery. Class was enriching and edifying, although nobody talked with me or even knew who I was, God does, and his spirit filled every molecule of my being. I was renewed, there really was life outside of our three bedroom apartment.

After a Sunday afternoon nap the phone rang.

“Are you ready to meet?” we heard Sarah ask on the other end. I was surprised, we had planned to meet later that evening or even Monday. Yet, she had already done so much for me how could I ask her for a few more hours?

“Sure,” I responded. “Let’s meet in one hour at Maverick okay.”

“Okay” I responded. I had called a few times to check up on how Malia was doing yesterday, but we hadn’t talked to Sarah today.

“How was she at church for you?” I questioned, I had warned her not to attend church, but she wanted to try despite my advise.

“Yea, that was real fun! I ended up pacing the hallway. She was screaming so loud I didn’t dare pass an open door, because they would all stop class and stare at me. One funny thing did happen though, a little old lady came up to me and asked “can I hold her, I think I can get her to calm down,” I handed her off “I’ve had eight children, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She totally was bragging as if she had the magic touch. She bounced her, rocked her, talked to her, but Malia just kept screaming. Finally the old lady gave her back confessing she didn’t know what was wrong with her. “but she sure has got some lungs.”

“I just chuckled and told her Malia cries all the time, not even her mom can get her to calm down.”

I laughed at Sarah’s story. “Honestly Stacee I just thought you were low on nerves and Malia needed a break just as much as you did, I thought I could help her to be happy, but weather I’m holding her or not, no matter what I do, she just keeps crying, sometimes a deathly wail, sometimes just a cry, but always crying. My nerves are shot! I don’t think I could really comprehend what you’ve gone through until now, it must be even harder as her mother, you must want to help her, and feel so helpless.”

Sarah’s small understanding was relief to my heart. I was not crazy, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t only me Malia was screaming for. I gathered my strength together and we drove to Brigham City to pick up Malia and Timbrlee.