If you were driving in our neighbourhood yesterday you almost would have seen a baby strapped in her bouncy chair sitting at the end of our driveway because we almost gave up and threw her away.

Yesterday was not a good day.

On Sunday night, Lucy would not feed from my right breast. This was odd, as she usually gets frustrated with my right where the milk comes out slower. The left has the hole she chewed (yes, a HOLE IN MY NIPPLE), so the milk really flows.

And by "would not feed" I mean she screamed and cried and turned red like a tomato and wept big fat baby tears and spit and frothed at the mouth. It is not pretty. Several times I had to leave the room.

But we eventually got her on the other side and she went to bed. We wrote it off as overtiredness.

Then came Monday.

She would not eat from the right side. Even slowly lowering her into that position brought wall-shaking screams. We’d eventually get her on the left, but only after 10-15 minutes of the freaking out.

Do you know how hard this is to deal with when you breastfeed six times a day? Do you know how frustrating it is when your baby cries like something is attacking her and you have no idea what it is and no idea how to fix it and everything that has worked in the past does not work?

Eric found me in the nursery, Lucy clutched in my arms screaming so hard she was almost hyperventilating, and I sobbing.

Was it a nursing strike? An ear infection? Gas? A swollen body part? Anger at having to nurse because she wanted to play?

This morning she latched on both sides with the regular ease, seemingly oblivious to yesterday’s battle that almost resulted in her trip to the end of the driveway.

A woman at work (hi Cheryl A!) once said she was glad to hear me talk about how hard parenting can be, that she always felt guilty talking about the dark times.

But it is hard sometimes. It can be so hard I worry about hurting my own daughter. That’s when having Eric or a crib or a glass of wine or a walk is so essential — for my own safety and sanity and Lucy’s.

We made it through yesterday, and we’ll make it through all the other rough days that will inevitably come as we stumble and dance our way through parenthood.

But do me one favour: if you drive by my house and see Lucy strapped in her bouncy chair at the end of the driveway? Please bring her back with this post pinned to her shirt.

Possibly related posts:

1. Bottle battle
2. I think it hurt me more than it hurt her
3. Can just one post not include poop? No. No it can’t
4. A day in the life of us
5. Morning routine(ly bang my head against a wall)