The boy at 1 week, sleeping in our arms. Ah, how things have changed?
Get ready to call PETA, 'cause I'm about to beat this dead horse.
We're in the midst of one of those adorable sleep regressions again. AGAIN. Anybody got a spare fork because I. AM. DONE. I am trying to be patient. I am trying to be loving. I am trying to enjoy the cheerful pair of eyes peering up at me at 3:39 am but nothing, nothing, nothing is adorable at that time of the morning. These regressions always pass but it's hard to remember that when you haven't had more than 4 solid hours of sleep in weeks. There's a lot going on - recovery from his double ear infection (much pain-related non-sleeping), one heck of a growth spurt (his winter hat - the one that fit 2 weeks ago! - now perches awkwardly), and he's transitioning from 2 naps to 1 (which is always bumpy from what I understand). But still. After all we went through during the first four months of his life, being forced to stay awake for an hour (or two) every single night makes me want my money back. I take great comfort in Moxie's assessment of the 13 month regression and all the comments from all the mommies with all the children who are doing the exact same thing. (Safety in numbers, right?) But rocking back and forth in a quiet, warm room with a baby boy who's perfectly content to hang out awhile breeds thoughts. Thoughts of letting the boy work some things out alone. But letting him cry it out simply isn't an option. Our apartment is small. Our neighbors are close. Frankly, I don't know how anyone in NYC is able to do it. There are other options, I know. (We've tried them too.) It seems that the best path is the one we're on but man, I wish there was a place to lie down.
It's just another bump in the road. It'll pass. Nobody goes to college needing to be rocked by his mother. In the meantime, I'm going to bed.
(This is just a gripe post - no advice is necessary, although I'd welcome commiseration.)