Category Archives: Sleep Stuff

No Sleep.

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3

Back before Ruby was born, I used to joke all the time that I didn’t care what kind of baby I had, as long as it was a better sleeper than Ronan.

Fussy, gassy, colicky, needy, whiny… I’d take it as long as we got sleep.

The first week or so with Ruby was as expected.  Wake, change, nurse, burp, sleep.  I didn’t really care how often it happened, because sleep was at the end of the cycle.

However, in the last few days, we’ve had a new routine.

Wake.  Change.  Nurse.  Burp.  Cry.  Rock.  Walk.  Bounce.  Change.  Cry.  Cuddle.  Swaddle.  Unswaddle.  Cry.  Nurse.  Change.  Rock.  Cry.

Notice the conspicuous lack of sleep.

This has been our routine from around 2 am until nearly 6 am.  Yes, that’s right, it takes me over 4 hours to get her back to sleep, at which point I imagine half the problem is over exhaustion!

I don’t know what’s going on with her.  I can feel gas rolling around in her tummy, and she clenches up like she’s in pain.  She cries like she’s in pain.  She breaks my heart.  But NOTHING that I do seems to help her.  Bicycle legs, Mylicon, Gripe water, nursing – none of it helps.  I get stuck in this frustrating cycle where everything I do takes so long to calm her down and get her close to sleep again, that we’ve come back around to another ‘need’.  She will be about to fall asleep, and then need her diaper changed.  We will walk around until she’s calm and then lay back down to bed and she will need to eat again.  I get so heart broken and frustrated that I can’t help but cry with her.

I have sent Brock up to the guest room because we spend hours doing this… and someone has to get up with Ronan in the morning.  (By guest room, of course, I mean the mattress that is currently on the floor in what will become Ruby’s nursery… if I ever get around to completing it.)  He needs to sleep, but it contributes even more to my feeling of loneliness and isolation.

Today, I ate nothing but bland food, to see if something in my diet is upsetting her.  If we have another sleepless night, tomorrow I will begin a trial of cutting dairy out of my diet.

If this goes on much longer, I will bring it up with the pediatrician.  I can’t stand to see her so upset, so unable to sleep.

And I wouldn’t mind getting a little sleep myself.

 

Head Down!

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I seriously have about 10 blog topics running through my head at all times.  I’m usually experiencing a situation and thinking to myself, “How would I write about this?”

Only to find that I sit down to write, and there is nothing there.  Yeah, I know… get a notebook already!  I wish I could just blog the moment an idea comes.  But whatever.  I’ll settle for this.

Baby girl turned head down Saturday night.  I was so busy at work, I honestly didn’t notice until I got home and crashed into bed.  She did her usual “mommy’s trying to fall asleep” mambo, and all the kicks were in all the right places.  I literally felt anxiety and stress leave my body in that moment.  I can’t even begin to say how worked up her being breech got me, as silly as that is.  I tell my patients ALL THE TIME not to worry, and that babies can turn head down as last-minute as an hour before delivery.  I had even already discussed the possibility of a breech vaginal delivery with my midwife, so it wasn’t as though I had a golden ticket to a c-section.  I just… couldn’t stop thinking.  And worrying.  And hoping.

Every single night when I went to bed, I would dream that she had turned down again, and every single morning when I woke up I would wait for those first kicks only to be disappointed.  Now that she’s turned?  I find I don’t have anything I can complain about!

Ronan has been having more sleep troubles again.  He hasn’t fallen asleep before 11pm yet this week.  We keep going back and forth between growing pains, teething, and him feeling unsettled because his home life has entirely changed – dad is home all day now!  My lovely friend, Stephany, pointed out to me something that I had entirely forgotten; when children are going through a big developmental leap, they tend to have trouble sleeping.  The moment she said this, it was like a window opened up in my brain.  D’oh!  I should have thought of that.  So keep your eyes open for updates.

Also?  I made an amazing cloth diaper purchase the other day.  I can’t wait to get them in the mail!  We are still using Flips on Ronan with much success, and want to start baby girl out in something more fitted until she’s big enough for one-size diapers.  I only got 12, and I know that’s aiming a little low as far as laundry is concerned, so I’m going to buy a dozen prefolds as well.  Time to move up (or down?) in the cloth diapering world!

I am 30 weeks pregnant and Ronan is 21 months old.

Sleep Again.

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1

I’ve been tweeting and talking about this for ages, time to write a blog.

Our Sleep Saga has been well documented.  For the last several months, Ronan has been an EXCELLENT sleeper.
Here is what we were working with.

We put Ronan to bed on sleepy cues.  When he slows down or gets glossy eyed, it’s time for bed.  That means making sure that dinner, bath and pajamas are done well before he may be ready.  Once we get into those things, he perks back up and is wide awake again.

Ronan would routinely go to bed at 5:30pm and sleep in until at least 7am.  Every. Single. Night.  His wakeups would be few and brief, wherein he would put himself back to sleep with no help from us.

After our trip to Canada in July, that was CATASTROPHIC as far as sleep was concerned, the 2 hour time difference helped us to push his bed time back a little.  We had been wanting him to go to bed a little later, not because there was anything wrong with his sleep, but because we would have a little more freedom in the evenings if he wasn’t in bed before 6pm.

We started putting him to bed between 7:30 and 8pm, and it seemed to be fine.  He was sleeping well, and not getting up until between 8 and 9 in the morning.

Suddenly and yet gradually, nothing has been working.  No bed time seems to be the right time, and nothing helps him fall to sleep.  I think it started when he was carrying his low grade fever that was and is still unexplained, but he would go to bed at a normal bed time… and stay awake.  Wide awake in his crib.  Not crying, not upset, not wanting to get out… just unsettled.  He would toss and turn and talk to himself for HOURS.  Yes, hours.  Brock and I would go in every 30 minutes or so to check on him, ask him if he needed anything, and also to check for poops. (See Poop Dilemma)  He was calm, quiet, and tired, but unable to fall asleep.

The following few weeks have included every single possible test in the book.  Earlier bedtime?  Check.  Later bedtime?  Check.  Shorter nap?  Check.  Longer nap?  Check.  More activity before bed?  Yup, we’ve done that.

As it stands, Ronan went to bed at 6:30 last night.  He fell asleep immediately, and didn’t move… for an hour.  At 7:30, he woke up and started rolling around in his bed.  Playing, talking, tossing… anything but sleeping.  He continued on that way until nearly 10:30.

We are at a loss.  Still hoping this is just a phase.  Still wondering if there is something different we should try.  Ronan takes a 2 hour nap every day, that sometimes stretches out to a three hour nap.  He doesn’t fuss or cry at bed time (usually!) and he always seems happy to be in his bed.  He just… doesn’t seem to be able to fall asleep.

I wish I knew what to do to help.

The Poop Dilemma.

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9

Oh Ronan.

Tuesday night, in bed on time.  I love that you fall asleep so well, and stay asleep.  I check on you before I go to bed, and everything is well.

…But when we wake in the morning, there is poop.  It has been there a while, and you are rashed all over.  Why did you start pooping at night?

Last night, you woke at 1:42 am.  I left you for a few minutes to see if it was ‘real’ and you started signing “Help!” on the monitor, so I went up to help.  As soon as I walked into your room, I could smell another poop.  I changed you, cuddled, kissed, and you went back to sleep.  I love that you sleep.

WHY are you pooping at NIGHT?

Okay people.  I need suggestions… has anyone had a problem with this?  How do I get him to poop either before bed, or not go until morning?  Is there any solution to this situation?

Pooping at night isn’t good for ANY of us.

The Sleep Blog.

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29

This blog has been a long time coming.

If you’ve been a regular around here, you might have noticed that it’s been quite a while since I’ve bitched about Ronan’s sleeping habits.  I haven’t written this post for a lot of reasons: for fear that it would jinx us, for fear of judgement, for fear of backlash.

In our sleep history, we’d gotten to the point where it was taking us an hour or more to get Ronan to fall asleep every night.  And every nap time.  One of us would sleep in his room with him on a mattress on the floor, as he continued to wake three or four times a night.  Some of his wakings consisted merely of him sitting up and crying until we laid him back down again; he was tired enough to fall back asleep, but didn’t know how to do it himself.

Two Fridays ago, I was going through my regular ‘get Ronan to sleep’ ritual.  It consisted of a bath, lotion, storytime, snuggles, and sleep.  Only, the sleep part never really seemed to come along.  This night, he was wired.  So I threw my arm over him, effectively pinning him down, which usually worked to calm him.  This night, it made him worse.  He was thrashing around, and hit my head with his head – a headbutt, if you will.  He stopped for a second, realized what had happened, and then cautiously threw his head towards mine again.  Contact.  He laughed.  Then he rolled his head over to mine a little harder.  CONTACT.  He was headbutting me so hard it was making my eyes water, and I wanted him to stop.  I pulled far enough away from him that he couldn’t hit me, and he started screaming.

Screaming, hitting, headbutting, fighting, all up until the point where I couldn’t take it anymore.  It had been 13 whole months of bad sleep, difficult bedtimes, struggles and exhaustion… and I snapped.  I really snapped.  I started yelling at him at the top of my lungs.  I am so not proud of it.  I still get ashamed when I think about it.  I was sobbing, hysterical and couldn’t stop.

“YOU HAVE TO SLEEP RONAN.  YOU. HAVE. TO. SLEEP!  THIS HAS TO STOP, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE.  YOU MAKE ME HATE YOU.”

And on and on until Brock came into the room and took Ronan from me.  He told me everything was okay, and to calm down.  He said he was sorry Ronan was being so difficult.  He said he would put Ronan to bed, and for me to go get myself a glass of wine and relax.  I left the room feeling harried and distraught.  What are we supposed to do about this?  I can’t continue to deal with this on a nightly basis.  But at least tonight I didn’t have to do it, tonight Brock was going to put him to bed.

15 minutes later, Brock came out of the room with Ronan, shaking his head and said, “He’s pissing me off.  This isn’t working.  He’s not going to sleep.”

“I know, ” I said, “We can’t do this any more.”

We stood in silence for a moment facing each other.  ”Do you want to put his crib back together and let him cry?” I finally asked.

“Only if you do.”

So, Brock and I spent half an hour putting Ronan’s crib back together.  He was excited about it.  He was crawling on the bars, and laughing as we screwed the mattress holder on its lowest setting.  We stood it up, made up the mattress and slid it in place.  We attached the bumper.  We filled it with paci’s, a blanket and a lovey.  This lovey:

(He picked it out himself.)

All the while, Ronan was having a grand old time.  Brock chuckled and said, “You’re not going to enjoy this as much in a few minutes, buddy.”

We laid out the plan for each other.  We hooked up the video monitor.  And then we put him in his crib.  Hugs, kisses, cuddles, lay down and goodnight.  We love you.  Then we leave.

Ronan cries.

He is not hurt, or sad, or hungry.  He does not need anything… he just wants.  He wants mom and dad, he wants us to be where we always are, what he has always known.  He WANTS us to do what he’s used to.  And I want to too, I want to SO badly.  I want to go in, and wipe his tears, and lay next to him and tell him everything is fine, we will do this forever if we need to – but I can’t do it any more.  This can’t possibly be worse than a mother yelling her hurt and anger and exhaustion into the face of her child.

I had support, text messages from a friend who’d done this herself.  Help from afar that helped more than words can say.  Each new message boulstering my courage and fighting off the desire to cave in.  ”Stay patient, you’re doing great.”  I couldn’t have done it with her.

Five minutes.

The longest five minutes of my life.  But I know he’s angry, and that helps.  It’s the same as when I take my phone away – a protest cry.  I cry with him.  After five minutes, I go in.  Hugs, kisses, cuddles.  I love you, Ronan.  You can do this.  Go Ni’night.  Lay down, and leave.

Five minutes.

We set the timer, and every time it beeps, one of us goes in.  This time, it’s Brock’s turn.  Hugs, kisses, cuddles, I love you, lay down.  ”This is really hard,” he says.  I say, “It’s only been ten minutes.  This could take up to two hours.  Or more.”

Five minutes.

When I go in, he stops crying.  He signs, “Please, please!” at me, and it breaks my heart.  I hate this, I hate every second of it.  He wraps his arms around my neck, and wont let go.  Hugs, kisses, cuddles, I love you, I’m sorry, you can do this.  I love you.  Lay down, and leave.  He cries harder.  Yells louder.

Five minutes.

We trade back and forth, going in and coming back out.  Feeling horrible, and not very hopeful.  And then…

He stops crying.

Check the video monitor.  He’s just sitting there.  He picks up his paci, and puts it in his mouth.  He is still hiccupping from crying… but he lays down.  It has been twenty minutes, and he’s not crying.  He sits up again, and makes some noise, and lays down again.  He turns, and rolls, and shuffles.  He sniffles and hiccups over and over.  But he’s not crying.

Ten minutes later, he is sound asleep.  I want to go in, and check him, hold him, make sure he’s okay.  I can barely swallow the guilt in my throat.  I feel like the worst mother in the world, the WORLD’S WORST MOTHER.  Everything that I said I would NEVER do, and I did it.  I have fought so adamantly against, I have avoided with all of my strength, I have done whatever possible to never get to this point, and it’s done.  We made our son cry himself to sleep.

Only, that night, he slept until 3am.  When he woke, I brought him a bottle, hugged, kissed, cuddled, and laid him down.  And he slept until 8:30 in the morning.

ONE wake up.

Saturday night, he cried for five minutes, and Brock went in.  Same routine, hug-kiss-cuddle, lay down.  He cried for another three, and went to sleep

Sunday night, he didn’t cry.  He laid down, took his paci and his lovey, and went to sleep.

It has been two weeks since we sleep trained, and I can hardly believe how much our life has changed.  I don’t walk around in a haze of exhaustion.  I don’t feel like every day is a struggle to stay awake.  I have energy and the desire to do things.  I have a son that knows how to put himself back to sleep.

I still have guilt.  There will always be a part of me that wishes it didn’t turn out this way.  I miss seeing him in my bed, and feeling him beside me.  I hate knowing what it took.  But it’s really, really hard to argue with sleep.

And now, we all sleep.

And So.

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Following up my 3 day marathon post of a story, I haven’t got much to say.

Ronan was a complete bear last night.  He didn’t go to sleep easily or well, he was up at 10 and didn’t go back down until 2 am.  Yes, I’m serious.  I tried for almost 2 hours to put him to sleep.  All of my usual tricks did nothing.

We are starting something new.  I’m taking a page out of the books of a few of my friends.  We’re doing a super strict schedule, which means meal times, nap times and wake times at the SAME time every day.  We’re going to be more strict about bed time, and staying in bed.  We’re going to get this under control.  We have to, before I snap.

I have been depressed, and not getting anything done.  No energy, no drive, no desire.  I’m wasting my life away.  I think most of it can be contributed to sleep deprivation and exhaustion.  I can’t keep living like this, and it’s NOT better for Ronan than a happy, well rested mom would be.

Wish me luck.

Those Days.

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4

You know you have those days.

The ones where you’re so preoccupied with something that you cant get it out of your head?  The ones where you get so caught up in your own life that you can’t find the way to pull yourself out?

I’ve been having one of those weeks.  I didn’t blog TWO entire days this week.  Every time I sat down and started thinking about what I would write, I felt sick to my stomach.  I haven’t cleaned my house, I haven’t done any laundry, I haven’t even been able to make it to the public library, which was my goal for the week.

Three lovely ladies came to my rescue yesterday, and invited me out of my house and out of my head.  I couldn’t have needed it more, and we had such a great time at the mall.  I probably wouldn’t have left the lair if it weren’t for you, Steph, and I appreciate it so much.  Thank you.

I guess I’ll give some news.

In Ronan-land, we started signing “Please” this week.  It’s very adorable.  He rubs himself from shoulder to belly button.  More like “PLEASE!”… but we get the point, and it seems he does too.

Also, Ronan woke six times last night.  Things seem to be getting better, and then they just jump off a cliff, all the way down to the bottom again.  He hasn’t woken six times in a night in so long, and it’s very discouraging.  We have him in his own bedroom now, on a mattress on the floor.  One of us sleeps with him, as we thought it would a little traumatic to suddenly throw him into a different room and leave him alone when he’s been co-slept for the last 12 months.

I really don’t know what else to say.  This hasn’t been a good week.  I have my fingers crossed that next week turns out better.  Eternally optimistic.

Sadness and Sleeplessness.

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My first real blog post in a few days.

This will be fun.  My keyboard is broken because I spilled water on it yesterday.  Go me.

I have all of these things that I want to write about, and yet none of them seem important enough to say.

All last week, I experienced something so wonderful, so amazing it’s difficult to put into words.  Ronan had settled himself into a schedule where he would go to bed between 8:30 and 9:00 pm, then sleep until 2 am without waking, eat, and then sleep again until morning.  I can’t even begin to describe what that week was like for me.

And then we had a Birthday party.  I’m not entirely sure what screwed up the whole thing – whether it was the cake, or the excitement, or the missing of a nap – but the whole thing is screwed up.  For the 3 days since the party, he’s been a bear to put to sleep, and woken nearly every hour.  It’s like we’ve taken seven or eight steps backwards.  I’m trying not to be too upset about it; we’ve dealt with it before, and we’ll deal with it again.  It was just so frustrating to see some light at the end of the tunnel (or SLEEP, as it were) only to have it blink off.  I always figure every day is a new chance for things to go well.

I also have been considering going to my doctor to have a talk about depression.

It’s a funny thing, trying to figure out what’s going on in your head, and whether or not it’s normal.  I feel like I’m normal.  But I also feel like I’m never really happy.  I write all these posts about being lonely, and trying to get things together, and then I have a day like Saturday.  My house is filled with so many wonderful people, all of whom love me or my husband or my son (or even all of us!) and I realize there is no reason for me to be lonely.  I shouldn’t ever be sad.  I just look around and know that I shouldn’t ever feel alone.

So then… why do I?

I don’t remember ever feeling like this when I was younger.  I’ve sort of always chalked it up to being homesick and missing my family, but that doesn’t seem to hit the nail on the head either.  I think that means it’s time to talk to someone else about it, and find out what ‘normal’ really should be.

Because there is no reason for me to be unhappy.  I’m NOT unhappy.  But I always feel sad, and I’d like that to go away now.  I love my life, and I want to enjoy it too.

Sleep = Judgement.

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As a mom, I have come to question why sleep equals good parenting.

Why do people so often meet a new baby and immediately ask, “Is he/she sleeping through the night yet?”  I can’t count the number of times I fielded that question before Ronan was two months old.  I didn’t even hope that he would be sleeping full nights at that point, I was surprised other people thought he should be.

See, for me, sleep is something kids need help to learn to do.  And parenting a child to sleep isn’t all that terrible.  Yeah, getting up at night really sucks, but what part of being a mom is about making MY life easier?

To get back to my point.  I hate the fact that so many people associate whether or not a child sleeps with the quality of parenting.  I want to take a stand here, because I have a beautiful, happy, healthy little boy.  He’s sweet, and funny, well behaved, smart, and growing like a weed.  By all accounts, he’s wonderful.  My friends love him, my family loves him, my sitter loves him… even when he was in daycare, they were constantly telling us what a good boy he is.

But.

He doesn’t sleep.  And therefore, my parenting skills are suspect.  I must be doing SOMETHING wrong, and so I am probably doing EVERYTHING wrong.

You know what makes me feel better?  The friends that I have that ALSO didn’t listen to convention that have three and four year olds that still wake in the night.  The parents that DID cry-it-out and still have trouble getting kids to sleep sometimes.  Sleep is not easy, and there is no quick fix it… not one that I’m willing to employ, anyways.

My problem, and all of my complaints about Ronan’s sleep have never had anything to do with the fact that he would wake at night.  It has always been about the WAY he would wake up, and how he seemed to be in such terrible pain.  Ronan has been on Prevacid for over a month now, and the night wakings that included screaming have stopped COMPLETELY.  Sure, he still wakes up.  But he wakes up, and rolls around a bit, and can be put back to sleep.  That is all I’ve ever wanted.

This blog is all disjointed and has no flow because I just got up from my two midnight shifts.  My brain hasn’t officially moved back into gear yet.  But really, here’s what I want to say:

If your baby sleeps through the night, it doesn’t make you an amazing parent.  I don’t think more highly of you simply because you get sleep.  I think you probably lie about the amount of sleep you get because you think you should.

If your baby does NOT sleep through the night, it doesn’t make you a horrible parent.  You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to lie about sleeping habits to impress people.

You Are Right, Momma.

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We, as moms, have this need, this terribly desperate desire for the positive affirmation of our parenting choices.

It’s only natural.  We want others to approve of what we are doing with our children.  We want validation, support, compliments – anything to help us feel like we’re doing a good job.  That feeling comes so rarely, and is so incredibly powerful when felt.

Because, lets face it, being a mom is really hard.  It’s really hard to make all sorts of decisions without ever knowing what the final outcomes of your choices will be.  It’s incredibly difficult to decide on a path that you would like to take despite all of the opposing arguments you hear around you.  You will ALWAYS hear opposing arguments.  It doesn’t matter what choice you make.

The thing is, every single choice that you make is the right one.  And at the end of the day, the only person you have to prove that to is yourself.  If you can look at what you’ve done with your child, how you’ve raised him or her, the choices that you’ve made and the actions that you’ve taken without feeling guilt or remorse, you have done well.  It doesn’t matter what your next door neighbor did, or what your mother-in-law thinks you should be doing.  It shouldn’t bother you when someone criticizes something you have chosen to do, because they do not have to live with the outcome.

And here’s the real kicker of it all.  We ALL want to tell other moms what they should be doing, because if someone does the same things we did, it somehow means – in a round-about way – that it was the RIGHT thing to do.  If it works for more than just me, it must be right, right?  So sure, I’ll look at what you’re doing wrong and say, “Oh, we did this.  You should try it.”  Fully expecting it to work for you as well as it worked for us.  But your kid isn’t my kid.  And your style isn’t my style.  And JUST because it worked for us does NOT mean it will work for you.  When it doesn’t work for you, you’ll think less of my parenting skills, and be less likely to look to me for advice again.  Then, in the future, when someone asks YOU for advice, you’ll tell them what YOU did, fully expecting it to work, and feeling bad when it doesn’t.  Here’s a secret I’m going to let you in on: it probably wont work for someone else.

I have been in situations where I’m willing to listen to ANY advice that is given, hoping to finally fall upon the one little piece that works.  And when someone asks me for advice, I give it.  Every time it doesn’t work, it makes me seriously hesitate to give out any other advice.  I hate that feeling, like you’ve let someone down.  But I always tell myself that just because it didn’t work for them doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing for us to do.

So, here’s a question for you.  If you give formula, and your sister gives breastmilk, and your cousin gave whole milk too early, and your neice-in-law never gave cereal, and your mom says she would never have let the baby get that old without putting cereal in her bottle, and your aunt on your dad’s side says that you’re spoiling your child because you hold her while you feed her, and your co-worker only gave a vegan diet… which one is right?

That’s it.

They all are.

YOU are right.  And you need to STOP listening to what they’re telling you is wrong, but you also need to STOP looking at other people and thinking their way is inferior to yours.  Because it’s not.  It’s right up there beside yours on the “it’s right for us” table.  Your right to do exactly what you want goes hand in hand being mature enough to let others do what they would.

I am proud to baby-wear, co-sleep, breast feed,  glad that I never gave cereal or purees, don’t use strollers, and can’t let my child cry it out.  That is what is right for ME.  I hate it when someone tells me something I’m doing wrong.  But I realize that they just want me to do it their way because that was RIGHT to them.  I think the hardest part of being a mom is realizing that your way isn’t the universal way, and that is okay.

Oh, and to all my formula feeding, stroller loving, cereal-in-the-bottle, sleep training mommas – I love you for what you do.  Be proud of your choices and decisions.  Because.

You.

Are.

Right.