I need one of those

Brenna is such a good baby. She is always smiling and laughing. She likes to talk and she likes to play with her toys. That's how she is when her mom is around.

There have been a few times that Cari will leave me with the baby so she can do some shopping without a baby clinging to her. Each of these times follow this same formula.

I stand in the doorway and wave as the car pulls away and then I look at Brenna. Her face scrunches up at me and I wonder if I have the right kid. Ten minutes earlier I was holding her and she was laughing with me. Now tears are starting to build up in her eyes. She starts to squirm in my arm and is visibly frustrated. As I walk around the house, bouncing her in my arms, she starts to scream.

I hold her facing to the front, facing to the back, and sideways. I try holding her just about every position except upside down.

She won't take a pacifier. I put her in her bouncy seat and talk calmly to her. I hope that my calmness will help relax her. The scream machine is out of control by this point. I lay her on her back next to me on the couch. Her diaper doesn't seem wet or dirty, but I change her anyway. She pauses as she chokes once on her spit, and then continues to scream. I lay her on her stomach and gently rub her back while I listen to her cry.

This is not a scream of being in pain. Any parent would know that type of scream. This is an angry, angry scream.

Twenty minutes pass and I realize there is nothing I can do. No amount of shaking noisy toys or offering a bottle reduce her piercing cry.

Cari pulls in the driveway and I am there to greet her. She takes Brenna from me, sits on the couch, and starts to nurse her. The crying is silenced. Cari gives me the look like I should have calmed Brenna. I point at her feeding the baby and say, "Well, I need one of those."