Last Friday night, Rex woke up every 1 hour and 45 minutes. No, not every 2 hours; I know because I looked at the clock. Each time I would sleepily take him out of his bassinet near my bed and tuck him on to nurse. We would both pass out. Sometimes I managed to put him back in the bassinet, sometimes Mark did, and often everyone just passed out for… you know… like 1 hour and 45 minutes.
Now, he has never been one of those great sleepers. And the next person who tells me their kid always slept at least 6 hours at a time is going to get my two fingers jabbed in their eyes a la The Three Stooges.
Saturday morning, I was on the verge of disowning Mark and Vivien as I tried to nap, and their chatter kept waking me up. I finally realized I had to make a mental choice to “wake up” even though I felt awful. All that was left for me to do was to consume a high calorie breakfast. Carbs and fat would have to be my fuel; fortunately there is a restaurant in the family that serves a good brunch.
I also decided, that’s it. Got to Ferberize the kid. I did it with Vivien when she was around 1, and it worked well. But since the move, I haven’t been able to find my book. Then, after brunch, what comes in the mail but the Ferber book! Looking like it had been ordered on Amazon as a used book. I thought, wow, I guess I’m not as totally super out of it as I thought ’cause in a moment of clarity, I bought this.
30 minutes later, my very good friend Bonnie called from Marin county (north of SF), “did you get the Ferber book?”
Good news: I have such a thoughtful friend who has listened to my needs and took care of me.
Bad News: I don’t know if I’m coming or going.
It’s funny how with a second child you sort of think a lot of these issues won’t fell you. You know what’s coming. Honestly, I knew it would be a challenge, so I had planned to hire massive amounts of help. But, um, then there was this Ponzi scheme, so jokes on me!
So, it’s a two part deal. #1 get him off the breast at night. Before we can do the classic Ferber, we need to tackle that. Mark is a trooper at helping, but I need to let him sleep sometimes, so I’m going into the piggy bank–happily this week. Saturday night our sitter/nanny/my real wife Dolly took the night shift. We agree Rex would get a bottle of pumped milk at 1 and at 5. That’s it. She said in her heavy accented voice,
“Missy Daphne, no matter you hear cry, no come in. My responsibility.” I am a light sleeper and jump to him in seconds. Dolly and Mark said I’m making it worse. Which I sort of resented, but since they are helpful I’ll take it.
Mark took the next night. Thinking we need another Dolly night for his health though. It seems to be getting better. But it is so painful not to take him to my bosom when I hear him cry.
But I’m doing it. I have to. So far.
To be continued…