The Witching Hour

I've been sucked in. For the last seven weeks I've been living in some sort of newborn abyss and although I don't think I'm anywhere near coming out of it I may have made some progress. For the last two nights in a row my little G-Man "slept through the night." Why the quotes? Get this, "sleeping through the night" according to the experts, means five consecutive hours of sleep. Hahahahaha! When I initially heard this theory in my breastfeeding class back in June, I will admit I was a bit scared. In what world is five hours of sleep enough?? Now, after seven weeks of waking up every one to three hours, five whole hours sounds glorious, like sleeping on a fluffy cloud in heaven. The first night it happened, he fell asleep and I actually woke up to nurse him at the three hour mark, but he was still asleep. Shocked, I checked to make sure he was still breathing (yes, I'm paranoid) and went back to sleep. A couple of hours later he finally woke up. Sadly, after that he woke up every hour until it was time to get up. But last night, last night was a much needed miracle.

Every evening around 6:00pm, my little guy turns into a bit of a fuss-pants. Other than being nursed and/or bounced around the house vigorously, not much else works to console him. This fussy period, also known as "the witching hour" in the baby world, lasts until 9:00 or 10:00 (sometimes 11:00 on a bad night) until he finally passes out and I am allowed to crawl into bed next to the already sleeping Husband. Last night was one of our bad nights. It started off ok. Husband came home and quickly ate his dinner (he stood in the kitchen and inhaled it) before heading off to his monthly Deacon's meeting at church. G-Man was surprisingly calm after a quick evening walk and fell asleep in my arms. Thinking that I perhaps lucked out and we would be skipping our witching hour, I put him down in his swing, turned on a movie, and poured myself a (small) glass of chilled white wine. Ahhh, time to relax!

*Grunt* Uh oh, the monster is stirring, if I don't move maybe it will go back to sleep. *Grunt Grunt* Shhhhhh! *Ehhhhhhh!!* No! This can't be happening! You're ok, you're sleeping, just keep sleeping!! *WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!* Crap. I knew it was too good to be true. Quickly I retrieved the screaming maniac from his swing and attempted to console him. All attempts were futile, he wants knows what he wants and he won't stop until he gets it. Having just finished the worlds smallest glass of wine, I know that I should wait to feed him. What can I do to distract him? Bouncy chair? Nope. Swing? No! Tummy time? EPIC FAIL! Bath? Yes! The warm water calmed the insane crying for all of two seconds and then it was back. Hysterical screaming and flailing around. I am clearly the worst mommy in the world. If he could nominate someone, at that point in time, I am positive it would be me. After an hour of torture (for both of us) I finally gave in and gave him what he wanted, the boob. Sadly, at that point he was so worked up he couldn't fully enjoy his meal. I gently placed him on the Boppy (breastfeeding pillow for those that don't know baby lingo) and got ready to feed him. This action alone normally soothes his hysteria. Not this time. He was so intent on screaming that he didn't even notice the meal right in front of him. At seven weeks my little guy is quite the professional breasfeeder. I don't usually have to help him latch on anymore, he just does it himself. This time, I was forced to grab his little head and guide his mouth toward me. He continued to scream, but also started making his hungry piggy noises. He began rooting around so frantically that he couldn't find the target. Instead he got a good poke in the eye with my nipple. Good thing it's soft.

Eventually we made contact and his latch was secure. Slowly my body started to release the tension and I began to think all was well. Ha! Moments later, G-Man inexplicably pulled off and began screaming again, he proceeded to spit up all over himself and me. We're talking soaked. After a quick cleanup we started the latching process all over again. Success, he was back on. Then disaster struck. I felt a small tickle in my nose. It gradually built and built until I couldn't contain it anymore. AAAHHHHCHOOOOO! Now, I've sneezed while breastfeeding before and G hasn't really minded, so I didn't think this time would be any different. This time, however, you would have thought I slammed his hand in the door or something. Directly after the sneeze his little body completely froze, then, as if in slow motion, he pulled his head away and looked at me in shock, as if he couldn't believe I would do something like that. Clearly I had startled him on purpose! Then his whole face just melted. Tears welled up in his eyes and the sobbing began. Again, worst mommy ever.

After some more time and effort, my little monster was calmed down and he went back to nursing. That's when the cluster feeding started. We nursed for thirty minutes, burped, cuddled, nursed again for thirty more minutes, burped, more nursing for forty-five minutes, more burping, then more nursing until finally at 11:30 he was asleep. After swaddling G and placing him into the co-sleeper, I dragged my half-dead body into bed, pulled up the covers and prayed for at least two hours of consecutive sleep. We didn't wake up until 4:30. That's right! Five whole hours of sleep!! We slept through the night!! Still sleepy, I resigned myself to waking up every hour after that like the night before. I nursed him and we fell asleep in the bed together. Before I knew it, it was 8:00am. What? How can this be? He only woke up once to feed. It's like a miracle! After the night we had, that was just what we both needed.