Saturday Morning With Jack Tame

Gas.  I think of all the things I knew (in theory) about parenting a new-born but had to experience in person to fully appreciate, it is the myriad curiosities of a two-and-a-half-week-old’s digestive tract that have left me the most befuddled.  I knew in theory that babies had to be burped. I knew in theory they often have problems and discomfort when digesting their latest feeds. I knew in theory that a baby with gas or an obstruction somewhere in his gut might even wake himself up. I guess I’m just shocked at the speed with which I’ve transformed into one of those parents totally obsessed with his baby son’s belches and bowels.  It’s the pain, that does it. When something’s trapped somewhere deep, the way his little face scrunches up and contorts, how he writhes and twists and clenches every muscle in his body. Often I’m holding him and he’s holding me, his tiny little hand gripping my index finger as he clenches, his fingers white and his face a crimson red with the strain and effort.