How quickly one forgets. Didn’t I say, every day is a new day? Well, that applies to nights, too. Night two at home had a bit more promise to it. The newest man of the house seemed to understand, at least, that 9 pm to midnight is, indeed, night time. All hours that followed after that are subjective, apparently, in his book as he spent some of them wide-eyed and others sleeping, while a good chunk were spent in his crib making every baby animal sound under the moon. He chattered like chipmunks, chittered like dolphins and squealed like whatever squeals {but not like a pig}. But the best news ever… Wait for it… Get ready… He did very little fussing, screaming and the like. So that. In the world of the Brehm house, is a huge win. {I’d like to thank the Academy, the MSPI diet and Alimentum…and our fave NICU nurse.}.
Before the better night last night, I may or may not {okay, may wins} have had a mini-breakdown yesterday in which I declared to my ever-loving and doting husby that it’s official, I cannot do this fussy baby thing again. Tears accompanied the words showing him that just one night of screaming had maddened me more than 6 weeks in the NICU. Because, you know, that makes sense {picture my tongue in my cheek}. As I said it, I realized that until I had witnessed the real screaming once again I had convinced myself that we were dodging a bullet and I also figured if we weren’t and the “colic” spells are soon upon us, I’d handle it all with good old-fashioned endurance and mental toughness. Because I’ve done this twice over and I’ve survived. And even created a merit badge for my mom sash {take that, Pinterest}. But then, reality set in. After one night and a half of a day of screaming, it was clear, once again. I will not handle it that way. I will handle it by going to a dark place where I cry a lot, feed my emotions with dairy-free Oreos, and say things like, I hate babies.
I think there is part of me that believed and still hopes that the spitty-crabby-screaming-incessantly situation just wouldn’t and couldn’t happen three times over. Because that would just be unfair. And life is always fair, right?
*boohaabwahahahahahahahaaaa*
Why, Yes. That was the universe laughing in my face.
Barrett, Jonah and Harrison, have each, in their own ways, shown us that, in parenting we have very little right to what seems fair. The reality of parenting is that we have to get through all sorts of undesirable stuff with our kiddos {sicknesses… Sleepless nights… The amazing pizza machine on a Saturday} in order to experience all the goodness it brings. And we all make it through with blood, sweat, tears and a good dose of love {and maybe, sometimes, wine}. But I don’t wanna hafta deal with it…
I know, I know. There are waaaay worse things than a fussy baby. And while all this screaming talk is currently conjecture, that crazy bout shook my spirit. And got me shakin’ in my boots. Because we all have our breaking point. Where our emotions begin to unravel. And mine is inconsolable babies.
So after the first-night-fussy-feisty-tooty-preemie situation, what did we do? Well, as I said, I cried. And then we called on the pros {thanks NN}. Nurses and NICU alums all said… They are used to noise and light. So like a Motel 6, we left the light on. At least a pretty substantial conglomeration of nightlights. And we brought in the sound machine. And we started off bedtime with a bath. And all that seemed to do somewhat of the trick.
Could it be a fluke that it fell better into place? Heck. Yeah. I mean, we’re not rookies. We know all this is somewhat of a crapshoot. And we know that one night really doesn’t prove anything. Because I am still pretty sure Harrison currently believes it to be 1 in the morning as he’s been dozing all day. So tonight, well, it could be completely bananas. Or he could sleep all night. Okay. Not really.
In other breaking news: Today, at his weight check and discharge appointment, Harrison was promoted to the 5 pound club {as Gaga says, Applause Applause} and after a morning like that, who wouldn’t be tuckered? So tonight, we will attempt slumber. And once again, Mr. Harrison, for you, we’ll leave the light on.
