My poor baby is teething. To be honest she’s probably been teething for a month or so now, but she’s really teething today. Lots of drool, a diaper rash, poops that just won’t quit. She’s not cranky, but she’s not herself. Her teeth are hurting her sleep, and it’s taking a toll on her sunny disposition.
This is the first time, although I’m sure it won’t be the last time, when I feel helpless as a mother. There’s not really much I can do for her. I can keep her fed and dry. I can put cream on her rash and change her often. I can offer her teething toys and my fingers and anything else she’d like to put in her mouth. I can give her Tylenol, which she hates (no Motrin until she turns six months, they say). But can’t make her teeth come in any faster, and I can’t make the pain go away.
Still, I’m amazed at how cheerful she still is. When my wisdom teeth were coming in I almost cried in pain. My sister went to the emergency room for hers. When I have a headache, even a little one, I snap, I thunder, I rage. She’s got little daggers pushing through her gums, a sensation she’s never felt before, can’t identify, and can’t find relief for, and yet she’s fine. She’s a little extra quick to whine, she’s a little more vocal about needing her naps, but she’s definitely not the monster I would be! Maybe I need to take a page from her book . . .