Iris was about a month old. I had just put her to bed after what I thought was a full feeding, a clean diaper, a burped baby, but she was crying. My baby doesn’t just cry to cry. She cries when she needs something. For that, I’m grateful for, but sometimes that “need” is a puzzle to me.
I picked her up, carried her over to my bed and rocked her while Alonso watched the tears roll down my cheeks. “They don’t prepare you for this. There’s no class I’ve taken that has prepared me for this. I have no idea what I’m doing! I don’t know what she needs!”