Sleep - or lack of it, for all of us - is by far the hardest thing about parenting.
I just don't get it. Baby B is tired. He's fed, dry, warm, lying in a soft cot with gentle lullabies playing. We prepared with calming books and a consistent routine. But will he have a nap? Will he hell.
He just gets more tired, more annoyed, more overtired, which then makes him wild. I hate seeing him like that but I just don't know how to help him. I've tried everything the books suggest but he clearly hasn't read these books and doesn't play along. I want to parent in a gentle, responsive manner and cry it out seems so cruel to me, but while the nap battles are going on I fantasise about getting in my car, driving far away and leaving him to it.
And of course, the horrible irony about trying to get a baby who doesn't want to sleep to go to sleep is that the poor sleep-deprived parent could go to sleep in seconds if allowed. My eyes droop as 'Twinkle Twinkle' plays for the gazillionth time, I dribble as I 'ssssshhhhhh', but B battles on, dragging himself back from the brink of sleep every time he gets close. I'm convinced he's going to be and do something amazing when he grows up. His resilience and stamina are remarkable (and bloody annoying).
After wasting half the morning locked in battle I give up and either let him fall asleep on the boob or take him for a walk in the pushchair. I probably should just do this straight away but I would so love to be able to pop him in the cot and have a bit to time to myself. Not to do anything fun, not even to nap, just to empty the dishwasher or brush my teeth or any of the other things that make him cross if I try to them when he wants to play.
When he does finally give in, it's for 35 minutes. 35 minutes!!! That's nothing. Although you'd be impressed if you could see how much I can get done in that time. Unless I'm trapped under him or trudging round the village pushing the sodding pushchair.
Nights aren't quite so bad, but only because of magic boob. I know I use it too much, but it works, so I do it. We still have an epic cluster feed before bed, which is actually my favourite time of day. I get in my jammies while Long Last Dad does bathtime and then B sleepy feeds for at least an hour while I look at his total cuteness and watch 'Big Bang' repeats. By the time he is zonked out my dinner has been cooked for me. Dad feeds me; I feed the baby: it's been our survival method and it's fine by me!
But our evenings are always cut short. Sometimes it's only an hour later and he's wailing, inconsolable unless I feed him again. And he feeds 3 or 4 times in the night too. Often I fall asleep while he's feeding, which can't be safe. Even though he's in a side-car crib he ends up in my bed every night. It's lovely and we both sleep better when he's snuggled up to me, but it would be nice if it was my husband snuggled up to me. He's been in the spare room for six months now. Yesterday was our first wedding anniversary and it was pretty sad saying goodnight and going to separate rooms.
I'm not quite sure where I went wrong. He was a brilliant night sleeper (although always crap napper) until the stupid 4 month regression hit and we've never recovered. I feel like the grandparents are judging me. I've lost all my confidence. And I'm soooooo tired.
He's sleeping now, I should be too, goodnight!
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