#44 One Woman And The Sound Of A Thousand Babies

How is it possible that in one day I took the subway twice with the same very cranky baby and his mom? What are the odds that I would be in exactly the same car going downtown in the morning, then uptown in the evening with a little crybaby who made such a sound that I wondered if his mom was neglecting him? It was a sour grinding gurgle that frenzied to a high pitch, with deep undertones of whine. He arched his back in his stroller and when I looked over at him I could see that he was very cute. As cute as he was noisy- and sort of frightening.

The first journey left me puzzled. Was she on her phone and he was pulling for attention and this was a strange s&m game they played? Occasionally, she would look over at him and then place a blanket over the top of his stroller to block out the stimulation and help him calm down. 

?

I’m not sure, but she did flatly tell another passenger, “he is so tired!”

Oh, he’s tired, is he?

I looked around to see if anyone else sensed how disturbing this interaction was and wasn’t sure which was more disturbing: the kid and his mother or the undisturbed passengers who were plugged into their electronic devices as a means to disconnect from everything including the responsibility we all might have to do something as a response to this loud and distressing situation.

Or was it a situation? Maybe I was overreacting. She said he was tired, and some babies get very loud and disturbed when they are exhausted. I looked over and she was holding him in her arms, he was happy and I felt much better.

Later that day, or maybe it was the next day, I heard him before I saw him. Again, he was red and puffy with screams and shrieks.  A fellow passenger offered some gentle advice, which I could only partially hear.  What I did hear from mom:

“he is so tired.”

Two teenagers started singing to him and he stopped crying and stared at them.

“Don’t cry baby‼” They sang.

It was charming.

The train became increasingly more crowded and the teens got off.  Yes, crybaby started again and I was still disturbed and confused as to why he was so distressed. His mom handed him a bottle and he launched it to the ground. In an exhausted motion, she picked it up and put it in a sack on the back of the stroller.

I looked at her face and she seemed catatonic with her own exhaustion. It was hard not to see the evidence on her face. She seemed barely able to stand up and I could only imagine the two of them at home, either sleeping it off or screaming for help.

I have a feeling that I haven’t heard the last of them.