This week has been one of the hardest I’ve had as a mom. Ezra is teething, and I think this time it’s one of his molars. He’s in a lot of pain, and is, for the first time basically ever, inconsolable. The other night, after a month of sleeping through the night, he cried for over an hour, despite me going in to nurse him over and over again.
All his favorite foods have taken turns making him furious. He has eyes only for rice cakes. Delicious, vitamin-free rice cakes. Meanwhile, he’s developed a biting habit, nipping me hard on my shoulders, neck, collarbone, even my legs. I’m starting to be careful about how I embrace my little hugger, wondering when the teeth will sink in.
Last night, after another rough bedtime, complete with Ezra refusing to nurse, crying through his bedtime story, and then demanding angrily to nurse as if I hadn’t just offered, I burst into tears and wailed to Sandy about how terrible everything had become.
So he reminded me that everything is also amazing.