Dee vs The Swaddle

Have you ever swaddled a baby? It's a nifty little trick. It seems to help Dee sleep sometimes. We wrap her straight-jacket tight. Some of you may be familiar with the dance that follows if you've had wee ones that aren't keen on sleep. It's a little bouncing, swaying, rocking jig that's a real quad and bicep workout. Then comes the ginger steps (floating is what we're aiming for here) towards the bassinet, the lowering of the baby ever so slowly down, the breath held in sickening suspense. Jay has to watch what happens next. He hovers over the bassinet to see if Dee will stay asleep. I, on the other hand, can't STAND to watch. The anticipation drives me mad. As soon as her little burrito-wrapped body hits the bassinet, I spin around, dive (silently) into bed and throw the covers over my head. I don't want to see or hear the potentially imminent downward spiral from drowsiness to battle cry. This is how it happens: Her wrapped feet lift and lower several times. Her head begins to thrash back and forth. She starts to grunt and squeal. Then. A tiny fist jerks it's way free of the swaddle and stabs upward into the air in a gesture of victory! The swaddle has been defeated! The battle cry follows. If I had to form Dee's cry into an onomatopoeia (dfS is going to LOVE me for using that word) this what it would look like: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!" Yep. That about sums it up. A collection of high-pitched vowels. Now, how ever severe you think the above sound is, increase the decibels 10-fold and ramp up 10 octaves. Then you may have a small, underestimated inkling of Dee's battle cry. It strikes fear into the hearts of many. And it marks the beginning of yet another hour of the bouncing waltz. Ah. But really, this is all written in good fun. Infertility makes you feel guilty for saying anything less than glowing about your hard-won children, even if it's all in jest. God forbid I shouldn't have these things to carry on so about. I'm the luckiest woman alive to have 3 miraculous children whom I treasure. Sometimes people say to me "wow, you've got your hands full" when they see our family of five in all it's mayhem-like glory. And I reply how an old friend taught me: "better full than empty". There was a time when I thought my hands/my arms/my life/my heart would always be empty. And now they are always full. What a blessing. Have a blessed day everyone!