R and I have really been blessed with D. She was never colicky as a newborn, generally not fussy very often at all, doesn’t get all bent out of shape when we take her places and she has to adjust her schedule to new and unfamiliar surroundings, and is just a really happy kid overall. But in the past week or so she has adopted a new bedtime routine – screaming. And not just your ordinary run-of-the-mill screaming; I mean screaming like someone’s poking her with a branding iron.
Her normal bedtime routine has been fairly consistent since birth. After the last time she nurses for the night she falls asleep on my shoulder and I put her to bed shortly thereafter. Even if she wakes up a little after eating, we can usually still just put her in her crib with her rain forest sounds on and rainbow light on the ceiling, and she’ll put herself to sleep within a few minutes. Alas, those days of easy sleepy time have apparently been forgotten. Now when I try to put her to bed she looks at me like just what do you think you’re doing, Mom?, and starts crying. This has occurred almost every night for about the past week. Even if she has fallen asleep on my shoulder after eating she wakes up as soon as she feels herself being put in her crib and the cries begin. And if R goes in there after a while to try and comfort her, she starts screaming even harder. Odd.
Last night I thought maybe we had it licked. The usual crying happened instantly when I put her down the first time, so I didn’t even try to fight it and just took her back out into the living room. It was a little early for her to go down for the night anyway even though she was obviously tired, so I didn’t really think too much of it, knowing how the past couple nights have been going. And of course she started playing and laughing right away, as if to say see, I told you I wasn’t ready for bed. Silly Mommy. Strike 1.
About an hour later she was getting real dozy in my arms (plus it was getting to be my bedtime too), so R said just try putting her down and if she cries, she cries. Okey dokey, here goes nothing. Of course the wails started right on cue as I laid her down, so I turned on her rain forest sounds and light and just let her cry. I proceeded to go to bed, and after about 10 minutes sure enough, the screams subsided and the individual cries became very few and far between. Success! Or so I thought. Her projector must have hit its 12 minute time limit when you have the light on, because all of a sudden she started shrieking again. Strike 2. This time R went in and got her, but as soon as he picked her up I could hear her sobs getting stronger and stronger and she approached a banshee decibel level. Ok, time for Mommy to step back in. As soon as I took her from R she calmed down, as usual. So yet again, after a few more minutes I nursed her once more and she was knocked out for the night. I guess 3rd time’s a charm, eh?
Throughout all of this I’m pretty surprised I never get mad or really upset at all, seeing how I was born with a negative patience level. Besides being disappointed that I get less sleep than I’d like, the more overriding emotion is feeling so bad for D. That poor little red face and gasps and sobs and rivers of tears are enough to break your heart. I’m sure letting her cry it out is the way to conquer this night time terror fest, but once she reaches a fever pitch I start to get a little nervous. Unhappy crying is one thing; screaming bloody murder like Freddy Krueger is in her crib is quite another.
Last night proved once again that my Mommy love is totally different than any other kind – it is 100% completely and undeniably unconditional. For if anyone else screamed in my face that they didn’t want to go to bed when I was bone tired and trying to go to bed myself, they would promptly be told to shut the f up. đŸ˜‰
Oh, but I will take any suggestions on how to get rid of this bedtime beast once and for all…
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I got to thinking about my previous post this evening, and I just wanted to clarify something. Although I love D unconditionally and can’t get mad at her when she’s miserable and screaming in my face because it’s my job to fix whatever’s causing the misery, I wasn’t trying to imply that every day of parenthood is rainbows and unicorns. Some days it is, but others it’s really really hard work. In fact, about 7 weeks after D was born, I announced that I had had all I could take and I was done being a mommy. Remember that lack of patience with which I was blessed? Yeah, it had kicked in big time at that point, fueled by broken sleep and lack of a newborn instruction manual.