Muffled footsteps, quick furtive incursions, hands deftly but quietly doing their work, and then…
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!
A shrill piercing shriek reminiscent of the velociraptor in Jurassic Park!
Baby woke up and is in agony. Colic is the enemy, and I am at war.
In my arsenal are:
- singing lullabies and pop songs (including American Pie that is strangely effective)
- my cradling arms
- Daniel’s efficient swaddling technique
- gripe water
- mahahing (an herbal concoction available in Thailand used as aromatherapy to draw out the gas)
- coconut juice for the third feeding
- hot water in between
feedings and for feeding after midnight
-
various burping positions
-
a strict diet for mommy that avoids stimulants, yeast, hormones, artificial food additives, pesticides and fertilizer; whatever I eat gets into the breastmilk
- and lately, a sarong-style sling that seems to lull him to sleep.
Hopefully, this war will last only 3 months.
