Some days are harder than others. Today was one of those days. You had your flu shot before lunch and it was all downhill from there.
I mentioned to your doctor that you hate car rides. She told me not to take you out of the carseat when you cry, to basically let you cry it out. So we tried on the way home. You cried harder this time, probably because of the vaccine. After what seemed like an eternity, I was near tears myself. I made your father stop the car. I grabbed you and we went outside and I held you. In the middle of the busy city at noon, as cars passed us by, I held you as you cried. A couple of minutes later, you fell asleep, holding on to me just a little bit tighter. I hate that I made you feel neglected even for a minute.
You’re so advanced and tall for your age that I think a lot of people forget you’re only four months, myself included. I am going to be hard on you when you’re older, so much that you’ll probably resent me at times, but for now, you’re a baby. You’re my baby. When you hurt, I’d stop the whole world to stop the pain.
The way I look at it is this: you are one of the happiest, friendliest, sweetest babies I have ever known. You are open and trusting, and you don’t cry very often. I have two options: I can waste my precious time arguing developmental psychology and parenting methods, or I can gauge how I’m doing by how you’re doing, and trust that I’m doing the right thing. I choose the latter. I like having enough time to shower. And as always, I am going to love you the best way I know how.