When Eden Cries

I've never, ever understood the cry-it-out philosophy, and never left Eden alone as a baby to cry. Lately, though, she's been going through a tantrum-like phase and it's wearing me thin.

I'm not sure I'd even call it a tantrum. It's more like intense emotional upheaval. Usually surrounding inability to meet a goal (like putting on her own sock) or denial of something she desparately wants (like touching a hot stove or running out into the street). Her favorite place to go when she is upset is in the kitchen, where she will turn her face into the corner of the cabinets and wail at the top of her little lungs. Big, deep gasps for breath in between large alligator tears falling down the cabinet doors. If all is truly lost, she will collapse down in a heap in the corner, dejected, shoulders sagging and head bent to the ground.

It's all I can do to keep from scooping her up in my arms and holding her close, kissing her and nursing her until her sorrow goes away. But she doesn't even want me to touch her! She pushes my hands away emphatically and her wails increase.

I'd say I don't know what's going on, but I really do. As much as it pains me to say so, I understand completely. I'm the same way.

A few nights ago I finally sat down on the kitchen floor and just waited there while she cried. I'd periodically reach out to rub her foot or pat her leg, and pull away quickly when her angst went up a notch. I eventually took off my shirt, figuring the sight of her beloved mommy-milks might be comforting. And there we were, maybe two feet apart on the cold kitchen floor. She, working through a major emotional meltdown; and I, sitting nearby feeling as if my heart was breaking and waiting for her to need me.

At long last she started inching toward me and didn't resist when I scooped her up into my arms and offered to nurse. She sighed a broken, heavy sigh into my arm and cuddled in close, her eyelashes long and wet around red-rimmed eyes. She fell asleep there, slowly relaxing into me.

I wish I knew for sure that I handled it best, but there really isn't any way of knowing, is there? Even when she was a baby she didn't like much physical attention when she was upset, other than nursing. It's awkward for me not to cuddle during duress, but it seems she really just needs her space. I guess as long as she knows I'm nearby and available, that's all that really matters.

Still, it's especially hard if we're in the car and I can't pull over. Or, even at home, it's just hard to watch your baby cry, you know? It was easier when she was small and less aware of herself. And if I find her growing self-awareness unsettling, how much more so must it be to her?

This morning, before I left for work, she crawled up in my arms and started pulling up my sweater, I thought, to nurse. When I pulled up my shirt she got this huge, happy grin, sighed a long and happy sigh and laid her cheek on my breast. Closed her eyes and hugged me. Like she just wanted to be sure the mommy-milks were still there, and was happy to know they were, if she needed them. It was the cutest thing ever. Definitely worth being 5 minutes late to my meeting this morning. And sorta made up for the rawness of all the tantrums of late.