When Grace was born we knew we were in big trouble. Sure, we couldn’t kiss those chubby cheeks enough and we adored her.
But she was colicky. And I don’t mean the kind of colicky that means the baby cries a lot. I mean the kind of colicky that means the baby never stops crying. Ever.To top that off she had reflux.Really, really bad reflux. (Yeah, don’t ask me why I’m smiling in that picture.)There was always something coming out of her.
And we would have surely given up on parenting right then and there if it wasn’t for one of my Young Women. She saved us. She’d drive over and swaddle that colicky, sticky baby and hold her for hours. She would calm her down and calm me down and all would be right in the world again.
She adored Grace, and Grace adored her right back.
Well, we moved from D.C. to the desert right as Grace grew out of her colic. And we lost touch with our magical babysitter.
But seven years later she somehow found this blog and we met up at Women’s Conference last month. She graduated in speech pathology and was on her way to graduate school, and offered to come help us with Lucy and speech and life for a couple weeks before she took off to graduate school.
We snatched her up.