Update: March 11, 2007: We Spoke Too Soon
Yesterday evening was blissful. We had just finished a great day with Caleb in the apartment. After dinner, he played and then took a bath around 7:15 p.m. Then we got him dressed and gave him his evening bottle. He yawned quietly as he finished the bottle, and we put him down to sleep in his crib. Within a few short minutes, he was out like a light. We came into the living room and sat down with pride. What amazing parents we are--this kid is fitting right into our schedule! We wrote our email update, telling everyone how smooth everything was going and how perfectly adjusted Caleb seemed...

And then it happened. A few hours later, we awoke to screaming Caleb. We were in the bed next to his crib, and Heather quickly got up to see what was wrong. She patted him on the back. She rubbed his head. She spoke soft, kind words over him. But none of it was working. The shrill cries of our 10-month-old son reverberated throughout the apartment complex. What was happening to our perfect child? I sat up, exasperated, and I asked, "What's wrong?" Heather's response was a short, "I don't know!" Thus began the guessing game of trying to figure out what he needed and how we could help. The game would last quite a while.

My first guess was the diaper. "Maybe he needs to be changed," I said. Heather complied, and so we went into fast motion. While he continued screaming in the darkness of the bedroom, I grabbed the flashlight and began searching for all the necessary materials--Diapers? Check. Baby wipes? Check. Changing pad? Check. Diaper rash cream? Check. We were ready. Still trying to cram a pacifier in his mouth (to no avail...), we laid him on the bed and went to work. I shined the flashlight as Heather performed the procedure. We finished and waited for him to thank us. No such luck. Heather picked him up, quieted him down, and softly laid him back in the crib. And thus began Round Two...

The screams came back to life. Okay... maybe it wasn't the diaper. Heather said, "Maybe he's just congested." He's still getting over the cold he has had, so nighttime breathing has been a little more difficult for him. And so we began a new set of maneuvers, each of them followed by attempts to lay him back down in the crib. One time, I got a warm rag from the kitchen to wipe his nose and clean his face... that didn't work.

Then we decided it might be good for us to sit with him in the bathroom with hot water running to help clear his sinuses, so I got everything ready. I grabbed Caleb from Heather, went into the pitch-black bathroom (now steam-room), and we closed the door. We stood there for about 10 minutes until we were both sweating profusely, wondering, “Is this really helping? He now has a fever. Oh great, we've made things worse!” Every time our faces touched each other, they would stick together. I opened the door to a cool draft and we went back into the bedroom. I laid him down softly, and you’ll never guess what happened...

The wailing continued. I tried to lay down next to the crib, reaching my arm through the bars to pat his back. He would settle down for a minute only to begin crying again the next. After this pattern had repeated itself a few times, I got another idea. Music... maybe he’d like some music! "Heather, take my place!" We switched and I ran into the other room to get the computer. I turned on "Baby Praise" and stuck it near his crib. The result? Now we were listening to a screaming child with "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee" in the background. The irony was overwhelming.

One last option. Maybe he needs some medicine. Heather went into the other room to explore the possibilities. She came back and asked for my opinion--I guess since I have a doctorate (in preaching, but what's the difference?). I went into the other room, looked at the possibilities, read all the symptoms and directions for each, and decided on one. I marched back into the room, kicking the door open with medicine dropper in hand, and Heather silenced me. She was patting his back in the crib, and he was quiet. I sat down, put the drugs away, and after 3 long hours, the game was over. Caleb was asleep...

We had two more interruptions to come, both of them more abbreviated in nature. The first was when Caleb once again started crying and Heather jumped out of bed. She went over to the crib and patted his back until he quieted down and fell asleep. The next time he cried, Heather rolled over and told me it was my turn. Groggy, I wandered over to his crib and laid down next to it. I patted and rubbed his back. Each time I thought he was asleep and began to take my hand off him, he would begin to cry again. So I nestled up right next to the crib and we both fell asleep with my hand on his leg.

All of this to say--we are now changing our prayer request from yesterday. Please don’t pray that our travel schedule will run as smoothly as Caleb's schedule. Instead, just focus your praying on the beautiful, tiring, wonderful, exhausting bonding process that we have begun with our son. Over the last few days, this child has been taken from everything that is familiar to him and has been brought into the land of the unfamiliar. He is undoubtedly grieving the loss of all his prior comforts and securities. He is adjusting to everything--places, sights, sounds, smells, and for the first time, parents. Parents who want to meet his every need and have a lot to learn themselves about how to best love their son.

We love you and miss you!
--David and Heather

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