Last night Eliza began to cry. And cry. And cry. All of her basic needs were taken care of, but she still cried just about as hard as I've ever seen a little one cry. My poor sweet baby wasn't feeling well. Nobody warned me before I became a parent exactly how much my health and happiness would depend on hers. That little, helpless cry was like a kick in the gut.
On advice of the on call doctor, we took her for a drive and gave her a bath. The bath just made her more upset and the drive worked until we brought her in the house and I took her hat off. She had no interest in her bottle or her pacifier. We were on the verge of taking her to the emergency room when we decided to try Tylenol and Mylicon. After a small dose of each, we wrapped her in her swaddling blanket and I placed her over my shoulder. Soon she had drifted off to sleep. After we each held her for about an hour, we put her down in her bassinet and she slept until 6 this morning. I, on the other hand, stayed up all night watching her sleep.
For the most part, she seems like her normal self this morning. She took her bottle and fussed minimally. She still doesn't seem to want her pacifier, so I'm wondering if her stomach is upset. Right now she's sleeping upright in her booster chair. I plan to call her regular doctor this morning and talk with her about this incident. It scared the life out of me.
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