So Operation Orange Tabby (aka sleep through the night) has been a complete and utter failure of epic proportions. Henry has given up on sleep entirely. I heard that at around 8 months old some babies sleep get disrupted due to separation anxiety. So naturally my baby is affected (effected?) by this. A pea under seven mattresses would keep this kid up. Last night was the worst. We had decided, no matter what, we were not taking Henry out of his crib after his last feeding. Well he
cried screamed from 7:30 to 9:30 with Chris constantly reassuring him. We had read that to help with separation anxiety that it helps to just sit in the room with the baby to let them know you are there while they fall asleep. That wasn’t working. I think he eventually passed out due to sheer frustration. He then slept until midnight and woke up and screamed again until 2:00 am. And by then I was so exhausted that I just changed him and fed him a little. I know, I’m weak. But a baby screaming for 2 hours while you’re in the room petting him and shushing and singing lullabies is just as tiring for a parent.
So now Operation Orange Tabby is on the back burner and being replaced with Operation “please sleep just a little bit, please, please, please, please, even 2 hours would be nice”. I’m tired of being tired and tired that this blog has somehow become a sleep journal. I also don’t like the person that I become at 4am after being up with a screaming baby for a few hours. The other day I told Henry in a quiet voice as he wailed “you could be a poster child for birth control”. I felt terrible about saying that. I still do. Day time Melina hates what night time Melina says sometimes. I’ve been told several times by other mothers that saying things like that in the middle of the night is normal and therapeutic however I still feel guilty about it.
Today I found myself fantasizing about spending a night at the Brookstreet hotel. I would book a massage right before bed then just sleep all night without interruption from a screaming/crying baby, a snoring husband or a caterwauling psychopathic cat. Ahh… a girl can dream.
So tonight we’re going to hope and pray that Henry sleeps a little more than he did last night, and then more the following night and so forth and so forth. Or I could switch to Operation “Pureed Gravol in Dinner”…