No Sleep Till Brooklyn (Why we haven't given up Aravis)

**Note: I wrote this two days ago, but blogger wasn't working and so I am just posting it now. Re-reading it, it seems a bit harsh and unloving. So I would just like to state that this was written in a desperate, sleep deprived moment. I've decided to "publish" it anyway with the hopes that maybe someone will identify with it, or at least understand why I am so cranky all the time :). On a positive note, we put Arie in the stroller last night and she only woke up three times to eat. Which may sound like a lot for an almost 9 month old, but compared to a couple days ago is practically sleeping through the night. I would also like to say that I know exactly how much of a blessing my little daughter is, and if this is the worst of the dilemmas I face while raising her I will count  myself one fortunate mama.**

I have NEVER pulled an all nighter. Not once. Not in high school, not in college. Not as a childless married girl to my night happy husband. Not until my kids.

I remember distinctly at a junior high slumber party being one of the first to fall asleep. I got my shoes thrown at me. I didn’t stay up all night “studying”/studying in college. I went to bed early (for college) and got up early. My college roommates couldn’t convert me (I learned to sleep with the light on… Julia). Not even my husband could convert me (I learned to sleep thru movies and with the light on… for hours). I worked night shift as a nurse for 6 months and honest to God, it was the worst six months of my life. I worked three nights a week and I dreaded it with such a passion that I quit my job a month early to “plan my wedding”. I think I might have done myself physical harm if I’d had to work one more night shift. All this is so that you’ll understand how bad I am without sleep. I don’t do it. I get mean. CUSSING mean. There has been many a fight with my sister and my husband that didn’t end well because I was up past my bedtime. The only thing worse for my temper might be hunger. But that’s beside the point.

You’d think God would know this about me and give me a couple of pillow angels. But not. He has a way of “stretching us”. In other words, giving us the last thing we want. Lars was a terrible sleeper. The first year of his life was horrible. I remember rocking him one night and thinking he was possessed and that an exorcism was in order. We drove him to get him to sleep. We pushed the stroller down the halls of our apartment building. We rocked his car seat so violently that we put the crash standards to the test. I remember the day we put him in his crib and he fell asleep and slept six straight hours. He was one. I swore to Tor that I did not want another baby. But as soon as he started sleeping well, the mommy amnesia (more like anesthetic; you don’t forget it just becomes numb) kicked in and I wanted another baby… after all the next couldn’t possibly be worse.

Aravis was a dream. She slept forever. I had to wake her up to feed her. There was a little hiccup at day three right before my milk came in; we thought we had a dud and wanted to send her back. But on day four my milk came and she slept even better. Then month five hit. Whammy.  Angel baby becomes the dark lord. Over night. Let the cussing begin. So, for the past three months we have struggled with not only sleepless nights but the thought that maybe WE are the problem. One night, I broke down and told Tor that I think we break babies. Two nights ago I told him I don’t want any more kids (I do right now, let’s see about tonight). I am pretty rational in the day. I can spout a million reasons why she’s not sleeping. But come one a.m. I am a LUNATIC. I blame myself, Gas, teeth, Tor, God. I cry and pray and beg her to sleep. When she does finally fall asleep it’s earth shattering… and late. But it doesn’t even matter that I am sleeping on the foot of the bed, or more recently the floor.

When we were struggling with Lars I bought some sleep books to help out. That isle is huge. There are thousands of books about sleeping. And there are two camps. With the odd ball thrown in aka pinch their mouth closed while they are nursing to keep them asleep. Eh? I hate the expression WTF, but if I were to ever use it this would be the moment. Anyhow back to the two camps. There is the soothe them back to sleep and hope they outgrow it soon camp and the let them cry until they fall in a heap in the bed camp. And both sides have very strong feelings. Don’t post your thoughts on facebook. You will come back bloody. Let’s just say we tried the one camp for one night and decided it wasn’t for us so we lived at refugee camp hope with Lars.

Second babies are different. You are harder. Edgier. Less compassionate. It’s probably lack of sleep from the first, but the sleeping heap starts to sound more tolerable. When Arie decided not to sleep I brushed off the books and set to work. She cried off and on for three hours the first night and then slept beautifully. Enter cold. Friggin’ colds. She can’t breathe through her little nose (which is how babies breathe, p.s.) so she was up with that. Then she started teething. Friggin’ teeth. I would rather my babies be toothless until their teens (when they can’t stop sleeping) and sleep now. Currently we are on day two of the sleep strike. From 1 am to 4 am, we get no sleep. Period. She cries. We hold her. She coos, and smiles and acts charming, except that it’s now two and I’m feeling pukey, and Tor has to get up in three hours. So, we strap her in to the stroller and let her cry. Pull her out, nurse her, rock her, threaten her. Nothing works. So tonight operation sleeping heap will once again commence. Tor and I are moving out of the refugee camp and onto the futon and Arie is going to work things out on her own. Some of you will judge me. Some of you will say about damn time. And some of you could care less. But here’s what I say to all you: judge not lest ye get the non-sleeper. And those of you who could care less… just wait. Your sleepless nights are ahead of you. Because either you’re not parents (yet), or you’re getting old. And some day you will be a parent and it will happen to you, or you will get old, and not be able to sleep for no good reason. And for those of you who say that all your kids were great sleepers and you don’t know what I’m talking about and I should just do BabyWise: that guy is a freak (google it), you are lying, or there is something wrong with your kids and it will materialize at a later date. Mark my words.

On a happier note, the next blog will be about Shop Talk.

Oh, I guess I didn’t answer the question why we haven’t given away Aravis? Because she is so stinking cute, and sweet, and wonderful that I could cuddle her forever. And I love her. And she’s mine. That’s why.