The Turning Point
However, my husband started to think the hair dryer cure was, well, a bunch of hot air. "We need to soothe her on our own," he admonished. "I am soothing her," I retorted. "I'm the one flicking the switch!"
Still, weeks turned into months, and I used the hair dryer less and less as I became more attuned to Isla's needs and found other ways to comfort her. I'd distract her with her reflection in the mirror or sing her favorite song. But my handheld hero was always in my arsenal, ready for me to wield when nothing else worked.
Then when Isla was about 3 months old, she was having a particularly fussy day. We rocked, we swayed, we sang, but nothing hushed her. Time to bring out the big guns, I thought, confidently grabbing the hair dryer, switching it on, and waiting for her to settle down. Her eyed widened as they always had -- and then she wailed even louder.
I was about to cry myself. I knew the hair dryer might lose its magic at some point, but I had hoped it wouldn't happen so soon. Like many intense love affairs, Isla's infatuation had come to an end. I tried my trusty appliance again several times in the following days, but I had to face facts: Isla had outgrown the hair dryer just as she had her rapidly tightening newborn-size clothes.
I realized that this was the first of many things that would lose their allure for my daughter. She was developing so quickly! The hair dryer had been a useful crutch as she navigated life outside the womb, but it was one that she no longer required.
And neither did I. I'd learned that my daughter's cries aren't the end of the world or audible proof that I'm a bad parent. Things may get hairy, but I can handle it.