All week, Henry, my previously perfect little baby, has been letting loose with terrible bloodcurdling screams. For the first couple of days, it was mostly confined to bedtime. Whenever I lay him down, whether he's asleep or awake, his little eyes pop right open. He rolls his terrible eyes and roars his terrible roars, and nothing -- NOTHING -- will satisfy him until I stop what I'm doing and pick him up and hold him. And even then, the tears continue to roll down his face and his sobs gradually subside into sad little hiccups.
But now it's not just bedtime. It's all the time. When I set him on the floor to play, when I put him in his playpen to keep him safe while I let the dog out ... even when I pass him to Loni, who has been his steady companion his whole life. And tonight, driving to the restaurant for Liam's birthday, it hit me: He's got separation anxiety. And he's got it bad. Oh no.
So for the next few months, in addition to the normal routine of raising three very active boys and the not-so-run-of-the-mill experience of training a puppy, we'll have the added challenge of not ever being able to put Henry down to get anything else done. Wish us luck, because we're certainly going to need it.
I think I may have to end up getting some kind of baby backpack and start wearing him all the time so I can at least use my hands again. Suggestions and recommendations welcome.
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