He is most comfortable in a specific pose: he needs to throw his head back and face you, staring up at you while you support his head. When he's happy, his lips purse and his eyes cross as he tries to look at your face. When he's upset, his upper lip starts to quiver and then he gasps for air before expressing his disappointment in a surprisingly non-abrasive way.
He's usually upset because he hates all bodily functions. All of them. He can't stand burping, spitting up, or anything out the other end.
I thought I'd gotten used to him. He'd certainly gotten used to me--I was finally able to put him to sleep and even make him laugh. When we'd met for the second time Dec. 24, after our initial meeting Thanksgiving Day, he started crying the moment I touched him. Now, he seemed able to tolerate me. But then something happened I did not expect at all.
I was trying to feed him. He was crying, and nothing could make him happy. He took a few sips from the bottle, then was completely disinterested. Then the projectile vomiting started. I was alone with him--his mother had left to run some errands, and I sat there in horror while he gushed forth, three times, streams of spit up. It was everywhere. Then his face grew red and he cried, and finally, he had no strength left and lay listless in my arms.
I was horrified, and quickly found my phone to call my sister. She didn't pick up, but a few seconds later she walked in through the door. When I explained what happened, she said, "Oh yeah, he does that. He can't digest his food sometimes."
I have a small amount of patience, but my sister's capacity is even smaller. She's the only person that has the ability to truly calm him, and she is either fed up or so tired that she's ready to ... well, she once used a very strong word that I'm sure she didn't mean because she needs sleep.
"He does that."
Poor baby.
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