I've hit a total wall. All I do all day is try to keep/stop Ezri from crying. She's so fussy, I feel like a comfort zombie. None of my needs/desires matter, I barely get to eat or use the bathroom, let alone do anything that I enjoy. I love my daughter, but being on Cry Prevention Duty is not enjoyable.
It'll pass, I keep telling myself. Soon she'll start smiling more regularly, laughing even. She'll be able to play with toys, amuse herself for more than 90 seconds at a time. It'll happen.
In the mean time, I'm losing my shit.
Parents I know (or run into in the mall and decide I need advice) keep telling me how fondly they look back on this period, and I will too. That is of little comfort when I haven't left the house in two days because Ezri won't calm down long enough to walk to the grocery store a block from our house without all passers by staring at me like I'm a terrible mother because my child is crying.
Contrary to my ideal, I've become a Boob Stuffer. After bouncing her in circles around my apartment for more than a half hour, I don't care if she ate 45 minutes ago or not: I stuff my boob in her mouth because I know it'll calm her. I've said it before and I'll say it again: the best piece of parenting advice I ever got was that your ideas about what kind of parent you want to be go out the window once the kid arrives and you become a pragmatist.
I just want this stage to be over with. It's exhausting and frustrating. There are beautiful moments too, but they're hard to recall when all I want to do is put her down long enough to shower and maybe, for a few minutes, feel like my own person, a separate entity.
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