Feeble Knees

Friday, January 13, 2006


Losing it!

He was fantastic yesterday. After pulling off a wonderful, just-in-time sleep-through-the-night trick, my boy was an absolute gem all day. He smiled, he laughed, he napped. Things were going so great I didn't even mind it when he spit up all down my back and then peed on my front. Hey, what's a little liquid between friends, right? I didn't realize it was a portent of things to come.

I don't even know what the timeline was, I'm too wrecked. I do know we slept from 9:45 to 11:30 p.m. It gets fuzzy after that. Mr. F and I finally went back to bed at 3. About five minutes later (?) Bug was crying again, after we'd tag-teamed trying to get him back to sleep for over an hour. An hour's worth of effort for about ten minutes of sleep = not a good return on the investment.

I got up again and tried everything in the book - the fan in the bathroom usually works, this time it didn't . Walked and burped, walked and burped, walked and burped. Nada. Mylicon drops. Didn't help. Orajel (yes, he appears to be teething. ALREADY) kind of helped, but not much. Finally gave up and nursed again, about an hour and a half since his last nursing (I think). It's amazing how all this becomes a blur and you find you're not even sure what happened when anymore.

At some point I made an attempt to put him down that seemed to work. This may have been around 4:30, but I'm not sure. I crawled back into bed. Sixty seconds passed. The baby monitor clicked with static and then the unmistakable cry.


Up again, tried to walk him, burp him, rub his back, rub his tummy, rock in the rocker, nada. Nursed again. He fell asleep. Put him down. He immediately woke up and fussed again. I put him on my shoulder and rocked. And rocked. And rocked. I stood to put him in the crib and found myself unsteady on my feet. As soon as he hit the mattress the little arms began to flail. Desperate, I took a blanket and swaddled him in it tightly, hoping to calm the little waving hands. This kind of helped, but he struggled against it and sleep. Sleep seemed to win. Kind of.

The clock glowed 6:30 am when I tried to go back to bed again. The sky was starting to get light. Mr. F heard me come in and groaned in sympathy. Took everything in me to turn on the baby monitor again. I didn't want to. I wanted to chuck it out the window. But I dutifuly clicked it on. Silence.

Then again. Static. The sound of little legs and arms rustling in the blanket. A wimper, a cry.

I couldn't get up. I couldn't do it. I turned the volume down on the monitor and stuffed my face in the pillow.

Mr. F got up and held him at bay until 8:30 so I could get some sleep. He'll be late for work today as a result. I would feel bad about that except that I don't.

This too shall pass. This too shall pass. This too shall pass....
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