Cry Baby, Cry...

I come back from work and take over from a beaming nanny who tells me that she's had the best day with Helena. I quickly take of my working clothes, jump into the shower, from there: jump into a pair of shorts and a tank top which is easy to remove when I feed her and jump into the kitchen when frantically I steam the breast pump, bottles with one hand and make food for the next day with the other one. And then 5 comes and the nanny leaves.

Yesterday she left Helena sleeping. Of course sleeping like an angel. And then she woke up at 5:30 and the hell broke lose. She cried and cried and cried. I tried any way I know to console her: feeding her with my breasts - didn't work, with the bottle - didn't work, hugging - nope, leaving her alone - no and no, and no. Nothing. Colic? Maybe. But she stopps crying and after a while starts again. I was told colic is one constant cry. I don' t know what Im doing wrong. No idea. I thought that Im feeling Helena and we had developed a good relationship but since I came back to work, I seem not to get her any more. I seem to be in the dark. And my self-confidence as a mom has been decreasing. All this ended me sobbing. Helena was crying and I was in tears. I have no idea how many times I repeted that I was listening to her, that I understood, and that I loved her. Nothing worked. Then out of nowhere she stopped. Just like this and went to sleep. Later on, I had to join her in bed for some more teaty time but it was already easier and calmer. Then I woke up at 12 and she slept so beautifully and so calmly.

What if she doesn't like me? What if she likes her nanny more now and she misses her and wants to be with her more than with me? That breaks my heart to think Helena has changed her mind about me.

But no. Let's not think this way, I though last night.

Today, I came back from work. The nanny says it was a wonderful day with Helena. I gulped down dinner. I frantically change my clothes. I take over.

Helena is crying again. And Im in tears again too. In big tears of helplessness. We both cry. We're both lost, I guess.