The boy is not collicky. When he gets upset, he usually has a good reason. For example, he’s upset because he’s hungry; I can relate, when I’m hungry I get upset as well. Or, he’s sitting in a big pile of crap. I can’t really relate to that one, but I’ll agree that sitting in a big pile of crap is not how I want to spend my time. So, we’re not really tearing out our hair or anything, because addressing his needs is fairly simple.
The issue is that he’s always hungry. And as a result of his frequent feedings, he is almost always sitting in a pile of crap. So we (or, more accurately, Betsey) is up a lot, because she’s the only one around here with the feeding equipment. At any rate, after three days of piecemeal sleeping even Betsey, her constitution forged through endless call nights at the hospital, has reached her limit. She tries, valiantly, to take the first shift until the boy settles somewhat, but its no good. I find her half an hour later on the couch looking stricken, the boy wailing. I take him from her and start walking him around the house, and he settles instantly. I tell her to go to bed, and, sweetheart that she is, she starts crying and saying she’s sorry that she can’t stay up more. Ten minutes later, she’s out.
So its just me and the boy tonight, with a single package of frozen milk to make it through. The walk has settled him somewhat, so I set him down and thaw the frozen milk and get it into a bottle for later use. I’m expecting, at best, to get Betsey 3 hours of sleep or so before her services are needed. We have an additional frozen pack, but we’re reluctant to use the last one. Surprisingly, the boy doesn’t get hungry. He mews somewhat, so I start walking him around the house again. Circles around the couch, figure eights through the kitchen and around the dining room table. This goes on for about half and hour before my arms finally give out, so he goes into the swing, and falls asleep within five minutes.
Now here’s where I make a strategic blunder, because I’m certain that he’s going to wake up within half an hour to eat, so I don’t put him in the crib, I place him on the futon, lie down next to him, and watch him sleep for five minutes and then I fall asleep as well. And the boy…
keeps sleeping. For about 5 hours. So why was placing him on the futon a strategic blunder? Because even when he’s sleeping the boy mews and gurgles at least once every 15 minutes. And so, without the buffer of sound-damping space and walls and such between the nursery and the living room, I’m awoken at least every 45 minutes by a particularly loud set of gurgles and mews. Try sleeping like that sometime, surprisingly, its actually a bit worse than just staying awake. Around 4 AM he’s been sleeping for 5 hours, and he’s gurgling a lot, and I’m awake and not going to sleep anytime soon, so I heat up the bottle and give him a good feeding and a change. Then I walk him around the house again for 15 minutes before settling down on the couch, him on my chest.
I’m just about to fall asleep when Betsey walks out of the bedroom, looking like she’s back from a week’s vacation. Its amazing how much 6 hours of continuous sleep becomes when you’ve become used to 1-2. She takes the boy and I head to bed. This morning, he’s being very active, but pleasant, looking around and practicing his proprioception. I’m tired as hell, but honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.
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