Don’t cringe…this one isn’t about me.
It’s a precious commodity with many important functions: keeping lounge rooms warm, boiling water on the stove… If it wasn’t for gas I’d be cold, hungry and certainly not soaking in the bath. The problem with gas is when it’s stored in a baby’s system and has trouble escaping. It gets trapped, not knowing whether to head north with some milk, or south with some mustard. It lingers midway, causing all sorts of pain for its host and his parents.
We sit him up straight (trying to keep his head from rolling off) and throw him over the shoulder, patting, rubbing, willing the gas to move. We lie him on his back and row the boat and cycle with his legs. We lie him on his tummy hoping to squish the gas forward or backward. We pace and brace our nerves, calling on any morsels of patience that could be tucked away or stored deep within. And this is during the day.
At night I plead with the gas, begging it to make a hasty exit so that my sanity doesn’t. When minutes pass with no burp or pop, I get a little impatient. ‘It’s cold and this isn’t funny. I’m giving you two more minutes to make yourself scarce and then I’m going back to bed!’ I can almost hear the gas bubbles laughing as they bounce around my baby’s insides…I think I may have to work on my negotiation skills.
In searching for answers to our gassy problem (because all parenting challenges have definitive solutions, don’t they? Just ask any of those books…) my husband managed to offer a reason that was sensible, possible and cruel. ‘Your milk comes out too fast. He’s choking on it.’ ‘And what am I supposed to do about that? He’s lucky that he’s got so much milk!’ Now, without wanting to offend any males who may be reading, I do believe that my husband’s solution could only have come from a man. ‘You need a valve.’ We’re currently googling it and if our search reveals no such item for fast flowing feeders like myself, then we may have found our new business venture. Stay tuned.
