My Little Banshee...

"I know my own mind."

So, I have in my possession a fourteen pound little bundle of joy, whose laughter will make your heart sing and your eyes sparkle, and whose cry will send chills down your spine and rivals the cacophony of Dante's Hell. I wish there was a more tactful way of saying it, but there isn't. My child, my little four-month-old, from the moment she sprang from the womb, has the heart-stopping ability to shriek as if five thousand Chinese torturers were upon her at once. Aside from the trauma it causes her big sister and, at times, her father, it has been the subject of some concern on the part of our neighbors, with whom we share a wall. There are even some neighbors (with whom we don't share any wall) who have stopped to comment on Perola's super-power. We go through the mortifying conversation, reiterating the fact that "No, she doesn't have colic"..."she's a bit stubborn at times"...and "Actually, she was just really ticked off". We try to laugh it off, walk away and shake the dubious stares behind us off our feet.
Our little Nazgul is also well-known at the library, where Bella and I have had to rush to the bathroom to keep the patrons from bursting into tears at the sound of her deafening screams. In the haze of the last few weeks, I seem to recall fleeing the library altogether, Baby Bjorn half-on, half-off, sweater all askew, Bella in one hand and a really angry baby in the other, Hah! hoping no one would notice. All my life, I liked to remain nondescript, quiet... a peacemaker even. Dan and I can't think where this little one got the propensity to be a volcano with little or no warning of impending eruption. God knows what we need however, and He must have decided that my pride needed to be knocked down another peg or two - or to put it more succinctly, I've got to get over myself. This false inner sense that I am ultimately in control has been obliterated by the presence of this child, and my reaction towards her spontaneous combustions has undergone a real and moral change. The deep humiliation, fear and anger that panged me, especially in public situations, has graduated to deep humiliation, love and submission. I wouldn't say the humiliation is welcome, but at least now it's received and offered back to the One who is ultimately the Author of it. With Bella I can truly say, "I'm sorry Baby cry sometimes", and mean it the way Bella means it - with Mary's "Fiat" behind the words.
I have wondered sometimes how Our Lady could possibly be a model for me in this situation. I mean, I'm pretty sure Our Lord was not subject to these fits of horrific proportions when He was a baby. How could she know how mortifying it is to be thought an unfit, unprepared, incapable mother? Then I remembered, Christ is not her only Child, in the sense that the whole WORLD consists of her children through her relationship to Him. She has literally billions of angry, impatient, tantrum-throwing banshees hanging on the hems of her skirts and deafening her ears with indignant cries. And I realized, how many times have I been one of them? Yet she has remained patient with me, and her mercy has no limit. In light of this sweet compassion I can say, with all fervor, next time Perola attempts to rend my soul..."Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy. Our Light, Our Sweetness and Our Hope....."