Rough Night!
I can't even begin to tell you how much I adore, love and cherish our little Ollie. He's growing so quickly and learning new concepts every day! He's smiling and cooing and just all-around a joy to be near.
But we do have some rough nights.
Take last night for instance. The poor guy had had 2 shots in the afternoon, so we knew he'd be fussy and cranky. One thing I've learned - no matter what you ready yourself for, you are not prepared. He's been fussing at the breast for a few days now - just crying, screaming, and doing it all with my nipple in the mouth. I feel like I'm choking him. In the end, however, he does settle down and eat, it just takes either a few minutes of fussing, one of us to soothe him or me contorting myself back and to the side to slow down my milk's flow. I've discovered that while my milk may be in oversupply, my patience is not. I'm working on it.
Well, we knew that last night was not the night to start him on a sleep routine, but I've been trying to get him to sleep in his bassinet whenever he sleeps instead of on one of us, so when he finally fell asleep at 11:30pm, I put him in the bassinet and crawled into bed. 11:45, he awoke, but since I had just changed his diaper and fed him, I just rocked him back to sleep. 12am, he awoke, so I did the same thing. 12:15, same. He slept until 1:15am and woke up with screams. I took him into the nursery to feed him. 20 minutes later, he's been screaming and crying (with real tears, no less) and I have tried everything. Finally, he eats for about 3 minutes. Joy! No sooner do I sit him up to move him to my burping shoulder, then he proceeds to spit up everything that I just fed him down the back of my thigh into my shorts and underwear and onto the cushion. It's down his chest, arms and legs, and on his blanket and my stomach. So 2am found me sobbing quietly so as not to wake my poor, overworked husband. Why? Because Ollie's screaming, I'm exhausted and frustrated and worn out and I have to figure out how to change his onesie before he falls asleep again. I also have to get a new blanket, although this one I wore all day so it would have my scent. I clean him up as best I can, burp him a little more (is my hair wet?) and rock him, hoping that by some miracle he still has enough milk in him to satiate so that I don't have to contort myself to top him off. At that moment, I see 3 bugs scurry across the floor. We can't spray because Ollie's too young and I feel like I'm living in a developing country. There's no hope of trying to catch them because Ollie's in my arms and no matter how hard I try, I always freak out when I finally corner the insect and it scampers away. I just have to hope and pray that the ones that climb the walls won't fall on Oliver.
At this point, Ollie has, thankfully, fallen into a fitful sleep and I'm feeling about the loneliest I've ever felt. I'm lonely, zitty, hairy, gassy and I have a headache. And I'm the worst mom in the world because I'm not enjoying this like everyone says I should. Or like everyone says that they did.
Then Ollie lifts his head, opens his eyes, and smiles at me. I think, "Oooooh, gosh. Okay. Thank you Lord for showing me that it's all worth it."
And then he starts to scream again.
But we do have some rough nights.
Take last night for instance. The poor guy had had 2 shots in the afternoon, so we knew he'd be fussy and cranky. One thing I've learned - no matter what you ready yourself for, you are not prepared. He's been fussing at the breast for a few days now - just crying, screaming, and doing it all with my nipple in the mouth. I feel like I'm choking him. In the end, however, he does settle down and eat, it just takes either a few minutes of fussing, one of us to soothe him or me contorting myself back and to the side to slow down my milk's flow. I've discovered that while my milk may be in oversupply, my patience is not. I'm working on it.
Well, we knew that last night was not the night to start him on a sleep routine, but I've been trying to get him to sleep in his bassinet whenever he sleeps instead of on one of us, so when he finally fell asleep at 11:30pm, I put him in the bassinet and crawled into bed. 11:45, he awoke, but since I had just changed his diaper and fed him, I just rocked him back to sleep. 12am, he awoke, so I did the same thing. 12:15, same. He slept until 1:15am and woke up with screams. I took him into the nursery to feed him. 20 minutes later, he's been screaming and crying (with real tears, no less) and I have tried everything. Finally, he eats for about 3 minutes. Joy! No sooner do I sit him up to move him to my burping shoulder, then he proceeds to spit up everything that I just fed him down the back of my thigh into my shorts and underwear and onto the cushion. It's down his chest, arms and legs, and on his blanket and my stomach. So 2am found me sobbing quietly so as not to wake my poor, overworked husband. Why? Because Ollie's screaming, I'm exhausted and frustrated and worn out and I have to figure out how to change his onesie before he falls asleep again. I also have to get a new blanket, although this one I wore all day so it would have my scent. I clean him up as best I can, burp him a little more (is my hair wet?) and rock him, hoping that by some miracle he still has enough milk in him to satiate so that I don't have to contort myself to top him off. At that moment, I see 3 bugs scurry across the floor. We can't spray because Ollie's too young and I feel like I'm living in a developing country. There's no hope of trying to catch them because Ollie's in my arms and no matter how hard I try, I always freak out when I finally corner the insect and it scampers away. I just have to hope and pray that the ones that climb the walls won't fall on Oliver.
At this point, Ollie has, thankfully, fallen into a fitful sleep and I'm feeling about the loneliest I've ever felt. I'm lonely, zitty, hairy, gassy and I have a headache. And I'm the worst mom in the world because I'm not enjoying this like everyone says I should. Or like everyone says that they did.
Then Ollie lifts his head, opens his eyes, and smiles at me. I think, "Oooooh, gosh. Okay. Thank you Lord for showing me that it's all worth it."
And then he starts to scream again.
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