The Aftermath

To say it was an easy night would mean that most of you would have to call "bullshit" on me. It was tough. Dante finally fell asleep around 11 pm, that's after about 2 hours of crying and yelling. We did what we were supposed to do: check on him periodically, lay him down with his lovey and walk out of the room. He fell asleep sitting up with his hands on the bars of his crib like a little prisoner and it wrenched my heart into 6 million pieces. We stretched him out on his side, put the puppy lovey in his arms and finally went to bed. And he slept. He slept to the point that at 4 am I woke up on my own to see if he was alive. He was; snoring away like his dad (and me, so I am told).

At about 4:30 am he woke up and since my boobs were the size of small planets and leaking milk all over the place, I broke the "rules" and nursed him. He nursed until about 5 and then, awake as he was, I put him back in his crib and let him go at it again. I lay him down with his lovey, turned on the little music he likes, and went back to bed. Randy was up getting ready for work and I stayed up to read and to listen. He cried and fussed, but certainly not like he did earlier. He quieted down after about half an hour and I peeked in and saw him stading up, leaning his head on the crib rail, and cooing at the big Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal. I went back to bed and must have fallen asleep as I woke up with a start around 7 am and heard nothing. I went in to check on him and there he was, the little prisoner, sitting up, clenching the bars of the crib, face mushed into the bars, snoring away. I lay him on his side, put his lovey in his arms and went back to bed.

He woke at 9 this morning and my fears of him not loving me went right out the window when, as I picked him up out of his crib, he planted a big ol' kiss on me and then proceeded to say "Muh-muh Ba! Ba!" (Which I've taken to mean "Mommy! Bottle!". Sometimes it means "Mommy! Ball!", but since his ball was nowhere in sight, I took it to mean "bottle".) I was right, and we had breakfast and he helped me fold the laundry by taking it all out of the laundry basket and spreading it all over the floor.

At 11:30, he pulled up my shirt and said "Boo" which means "give me some boobs" and I nursed him into his nap.

Tonight, we do it again. Aside from birthing him, this has been the toughest thing in the world. So far. I'm sure that by the time he turns 15 and brings some tramp home (they will ALL be tramps), I'll find some other tough things to deal with.

Self-soothing, loveys, and a side of guilt

Well, after almost 11 months of sleepless nights and a baby who wakes up 2 or 3 times a night, Randy and I decided to teach Dante how to self-soothe and put himself to bed. We watched a program on getting your child to sleep through the night and we decided that tonight was the night to set forth on this perilous adventure. Now, normally our nighttime routine consisted of dinner at 7:30, bath at 8:30, and then Daddy rocks Dante to sleep and then puts him in his crib, whereas Mr. Dante would wake up every 3 or 4 hours throughout the night. Randy was in charge of any fussing pre-midnight (as he has to get up at 5 am for work) and I would take over the night-shift, usually nursing Dante back to sleep in the wee hours of the am.

Tonight, though, we bit the bullet. After regular feeding and bath time, we put Dante to bed AWAKE and gave him his "lovey": a very soft stuffed dog that Randy bought after I gave birth; one of those really soft Gund kind that make you want to snuggle. Well, the second we left the room he began crying. Angry cries. Screaming cries. The cries that say "Why are you abandoning me mommy and daddy?!?!" It was so difficult for me not to run in there and just grab him and hold him and kiss him and tell him I was still here. Oh the pain I felt listening to it. I called my own mom and cried to her that I was a terrible mother for letting my lamb cry. My mom said to me, "Just go in after about 10 minutes, give him some water, tell him you love him, and give him his lovey. He won't hate you. You're not a horrible mother." Thanks mom, but tell me that when my son is not crying 10 feet away and I'm sitting on my ass watching Hell's Kitchen.

Randy and I lay in our bedroom, watching TV. Randy easing my tears and me fighting the urge to comfort my son. I know it's what we have to do. I know that. Doesn't mean I have to like it. We checked on him after 15 minutes or so and gave him water and settled him in with his lovey. He'd cry again and I'd bear it. Eventually his cries became quiet and we hoped he was asleep. WE'd check on him and he'd see us and cry again. This was awful.

Well, it's now been over and hour since we've tried this method. Dante is fussing a bit as I can hear him on the monitor, but he's becoming quieter and I can hear him cooing at the stuffed animal. He is so tired. I hope that he learns to sleep through the night. It will benefit all of us. Right now, my guilt and anxiety is eating away at my stomach. I just want to go in there and tell him it's ok but I know if I do, it will negate everything we're trying to accomplish.

He's quiet now. In a few minutes I'll see if he's asleep, kiss him if he is, and hope he still loves me in the morning.

Damn you Hampton Inn!

Well, Dante's still sick. His fever was still pretty high this morning when he woke up ( I have yet to sleep). I took him to the pediatrician who diagnosed him with having both conjunctivitis (or pink eye) in his left eye and a mild ear infection. Hence, the fever and irritability. I asked the doc if this could have been picked up in a hotel pool and he answered in the affirmative saying that it was probably, if not definitely the cause.

So, Hampton Inn in Naples. Although your beds are extremely comfy and we had a great time..........

CLEAN YOUR POOL!

**Dante is on antibiotics for the ear and drops for the eye and should be better in a few days***

Baby's First Emergency Room Visit

We had to take Dante to the ER last night. He had been lethargic and listless all day; just "not himself" and by the time Randy got home from work he was running a slight fever. By dinner time he was up to 102, so we packed up the car, locked up the dogs and headed to the ER. After an hour of being there, we finally were triaged and his temperature was 104. Poor lamb. So they gave him a Motrin Popsicle and we went back out to the waiting room to wait for the doctor. ANOTHER hour later, the doc saw us. By this time, the Motrin had kicked in and we had our spry, happy son back; flirting and waving at all the pretty girls and nurses in the waiting room, playing hide and seek under his blanket, and passing his pacifier back and forth between the three of us in this little game that he's recently invented.

He's ok now. He's been up and down in the fever department all day. The ER doc said it was probably a virus he picked up somewhere and to watch him. I called his pediatrician this morning and she said to keep him hydrated and if his fever persisted to Friday, to bring him in. He seems to be doing much better now, having eaten a VERY big bowl of macaroni and cheese with an Enfamil chaser, all the while trying to grab the spinach off of our dinner plates.

But, of course, as the mommy. I have yet to sleep. I stayed up all night last night just sitting next to his crib, listening to him snore, and watching him sweat out the fever. I finally lay down about 5:30 am when he woke up and needed me. But that's what mommies do, and although my eyes feel as though there is a 700 lb. anvil on each one, I probably will sit up tonight and keep an eye on him as well. He's my lamb!

On a side note: Childrens' ERs are weird. There was a little nook/play area for kids in the corner. It was a few video game systems and a couple of computers. But you know what? No books. Not one single Goodnight Moon or Pokey Little Puppy. I found that sad.