She’s so tiny and vulnerable; she is utterly our responsibility and her cries pierce me to my very core. There are no tears. There’s no malice or temper in her distress, just the need for something. And it’s something she can only say through crying. I feel a loathsome sense of uselessness when nothing I do will pacify her. No feeding, no changing, no soothing. I become frustrated, wishing I could understand, that somehow she could be clearer, or that I could happen upon the ‘answer.’
And then at some wholly unpredictable time, she stops and falls instantly to sleep in my arms.
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