She screamed and screamed nonsensically but she was awake. Her eyes were open and following me, upset. I picked her up and her screams became pointed: No, Mommy! No, Mommy! She wriggled out of my arms and flung herself to the floor where she continued writhing and screaming.
No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy! No, Mommy!
I tried to touch her. She rolled away and screamed. No, Mommy! I tried to shush her. No, Mommy! She screamed louder.
I sat on the floor next to her and watched her scream. She screamed until she was sweaty and hiccupy and red-faced. And then, as inexplicably as she began screaming, just as inexplicably she sat up and stopped.
"I love you, sweet girl, and I am sorry I don't understand what you want," I told her. She just looked at me.
"Do you want to climb up in my bed with me and snuggle?" She just looked at me.
"Do you want to go back into your crib?" She didn't speak, but that look was reproachful.
"Do you want a hug?" She looked at me. She climbed up in my lap. I held her in my arms and we rocked.