Saturday, March 6, 2010
He still likes to nurse. He still likes to be held. Apparently those are the only two things he likes.
Starting two nights ago, John decided to rock the boat a bit. Maybe his little tummy was hurting him. You know, all that milk.
Mom heard us in the kitchen, rocking away, and she came and rescued me. I went to bed, and she spent the night on the couch with John. Both of them dozing off and on.
And last night, he stayed in the bed with me. Don't worry. He was on "the wedge" (you know, the infant sleep positioner), so I couldn't roll over on him. But after each feeding (every three hours, like clockwork), I had to first cuddle him right next to me until he was calm. Then I placed him on his side on the wedge, and I would pat his back really hard, and finally he would relax, and I would turn over and sleep for a while until the next feeding. We are approaching what the "experts" say are the hardest two weeks until things peak at six weeks. And then he is supposed to start sleeping longer at night, and he is supposed to stop crying as much. Did I mention that he cried for the most of the day yesterday. That is, when he wasn't nursing.
I am so thankful for nursing. It is an instant soother. It works every time. And it allows me to cuddle with him and stare at him and smell that baby head. It allows me to enjoy him during these hard weeks. I like having the answer. When Ada wouldn't nurse, at all, and I was pumping, and she was screaming, and someone else was feeding her a bottle, I couldn't ever enjoy a peaceful moment with her. It was always her screaming and me feeling lost and a bit helpless. I promised myself that I would somehow enjoy these early weeks despite the hardness, and nursing allows that.
So, we are headed back to Georgia today. And we will make it. Thank you grandparents, for a week of catching up on rest and sanity.
(as usual, Sarah took the pictures.)