Grey

Yesterday was a bad day.

Not only was there a snake in the yard that I thought had bitten my teeny-tiny dog, but the baby was in a mood. She fed often, but only in short spurts. She spat up a lot. She would cry like she was gassy, but straighten out like a board when I tried to burp her. She cried for no reason and for no solution.

It got to late in the day and I called the husband to see when he would be home, he said he would be leaving shortly. And I set off to walk the baby through the house and had the picture in my head of my hand slapping down on a big, red 'too hard' button. Like if there was one, it would have been pressed.

I lay down on the bed with her as the sun set. She lay over one arm and screeched. And I realised that I couldn't really think clearly. Like there was a swampy fog of gray rising up.

I lay my other arm over her belly and settled in the pillow.

And then she sucked on the dummy and started to fall asleep.

I don't know what the grey was, but it was the first time I started to feel like all of this was swallowing me up. Slowly, but surely.

It wasn't long before the husband got home and could see how I was feeling. She was still cranky, but he was lighthearted. He could sense it was a bad day and he's been great about keeping her occupied.

She didn't sleep well on Sunday night, so I didn't sleep well either.

I'm writing this on Monday and publishing on Tuesday

I'm hoping that when I read this, published, I can look back with a knowing smile that it was just 'one of those days'.