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  • Sleep Wooing

    Sean and I have adopted a take-no-prisoners approach to Axel's capricious sleep/no sleep days and nights.  We are presenting a united front.  It's Mama and Daddy against the cranky, sleep baby who needs, but doesn't want, sleep. 

     

    We're fighting for the enemy's heart and mind, as they say, so the weapons in our arsenal must be of the more subtle kind.  You can't threaten a baby to sleep, or poke him with needles until he gives in and snoozes.  Believe me, I've tried - not the needles, though lord knows that, in moments that were not my best, filled with the sort of desperation that fuels the sales of sleep solution books, I can't say that I wouldn't have tried a little pin pricking if a self-appointed expert told me that jabbing a baby with needles is a sure bet for making him sleep through the night - but the commands. 

     

    "Go to sleep now," I've said, playing the mommy dictator of the land of slumber.  "You have to sleep.  Not sleeping is not an option.  You better sleep or you'll regret it tomorrow."  Axel knows these are empty threats.  I'm the one who's going to regret it the next day if he doesn't sleep.  And what am I going to do if he doesn't?  Punish him by making him stay awake longer?  You can't punish a four month old.  Four month olds don't misbehave - I mean, sometimes Axel sticks his thumb in his nose when he's going for his mouth.  Clearly we do not have a criminal mastermind on our hands.  We can't lock him up and bully him in to dreamland.  Sleep cannot be forced. 

     

    War is too strong of a word for what we're doing, even though it sure feels like a battle to me at 3 am.  It's more like sleep wooing.  Axel was, after all, the size of a pea a year ago.  He's grown 24 inches in a year.  Teenagers turn into huge jerks when they're only sprouting up four inches in a year.  It makes sense to me that such rapid development would make some babies (including our mostly sweet boy) a little nutty, and I'm fine babying my boy since he is, after all, just a baby.  Given his transformation from a legume to a wee person, the strategy that seems best for us is to take a gradual (but steady) approach to encouraging longer naps and larger chunks of sleep at night, easing him along the developmental path.   My goal is just to get him back to the very manageable once-per-night feeding. 

     

    Since it's futile to even attempt to command our baby to sleep, our approach is to butter him up and wear him down.  We're seducing him with lullabies and rocking.  We're chipping away at his sleep-refusing willpower by exposing him to sunlight early in the day, getting outside a few times, and engaging in lots of active play.  We're encouraging three regular daily naps even if it sometimes takes twenty minutes of rocking and patting and patiently waiting out the fussies to get him to stay down, or if he only wants to nap in the sling.  I made Sean hang bath towels over the drapes in an effort to further darken the room, and we're faithfully running the humidifier for white noise.  We're sticking with our nightly Four B routine - bath, baby massage, books, breastfeeding - to ease him into sleep.    I've also finally figured out how to nurse lying down, so I can rest while the boy eats and feel less like a groggy zombie the next day (yeah, I know - it seems pretty straightforward but I still couldn't make it work until recently).  We've already seen some benefits, though I'm honestly not sure if it's just a fluke or if it's because of our sleep strategies.  Axel was back to waking up just once to eat on Friday night, though on Saturday he was up twice.  Twice is still a huge improvement on some of the nights we've had lately.  I'll take any progress we can get, even if it sometimes feels like it's at a tranquilized turtle's pace. 

     

    And, if all else fails, we'll just wait it out.  Maybe he's teething - he has been drenching his shirts with drool and gnawing on his knuckles.  Maybe it's a growth spurt.  We're patient.  It's probably just a phase - even if, in the wee hours of the morning, it feels like a long one. 

     

     

    Let the great sleep battle  wooing of 2008 begin! 

     


  • He'll Sleep When He's Dead

    Axel has decided that babies do not need to sleep.  They certainly do not need to nap.  Naps are for the weak and foolish, and Axel does not want to be lumped in either of those categories.  The dreaded, evil four month sleep regression is upon us.  Axel's tripling - make that quadrupling or quint...something - of nightly wakings and deep nap aversion has smacked me upside the head, tackled me, and twisted my arm until I've cried uncle.  

     

    Here's the sleepless baby zombie's sort of schedule before reaching four months of age: go to sleep at 7 - 8 pm, sleep until 2 - 3 am, eat, then back to sleep until 6 am.  It only existed for about two weeks, but it was heavenly.  I even sort of liked the one time he got up at night, cuddling him in my arms as he nursed and seeing his sleepy grin when I changed his diaper. 

     

    Then, one night just before the eve of his four month birthday, Axel woke up at eleven.  And at one.  And at three.  And at four, and every fifteen minutes after that until 6:30 am.  This coincided with our attempt to break the swaddling habit, but these two now appear to be separate - whether swaddled or not, he doesn't want to fall asleep and he sure doesn't stay asleep.  As for daily naps, he went from reliably nodding off every two to three hours for naps ranging from 20 minutes to an hour and a half, to refusing to nap for longer than five minutes unless in the sling or in the car or in stroller. 

     

    At night, we put him down in his Pack and Play next to my side of the bed.  Then, he wakes up - sometimes cooing, sometimes immediately yelling as though the boogeyman just tried to bite off his ear.  My husband has tried to rock him back to sleep, which buys me maybe 30 minutes more of sleep before I get up and feed Axel.  Rolling over and popping the pacifier in his mouth gets me about five minutes.  In the early morning hours, nothing seems to work except bringing Axel up from his Pack and Play between the two of us - and I must be either holding his tiny hand or have my hand on his stomach - for him to go back to sleep for more than a dozen minutes.  This happens more often on nights when my husband's at the fire station - Axel wakes up more often, and I also bring him up into my bed more often, since I'm exhausted and, at 4 am, whatever works the fastest to get your baby to sleep seems like the best short-term solution.  While I'm not opposed to co-sleeping in theory, I don't like it much in practice.  I don't sleep well when I'm worried about rolling over and crushing my tiny baby boy, and I like to have mounds of covers piled on top of me when I sleep, covers that must be pulled off of me when Axel's on the bed. 

     

    None of the methods of extending his sleep that we've tried seem to work, and I think we've tried everything we're willing to try from white noise to creating the perfect bath-baby massage- But Not the Hippopotamus-bedtime routine, since I'm not going to give him solid foods before he's six months old.  According to our pediatrician, the solid foods and sleeping longer theory is just an old wives' tale.  Axel can fall asleep on his own, when I put him down drowsy and full of milk at night; he just doesn't stay asleep, and he resists naps as though they're poison.  I know it works for some, but the full on cry-it-out route isn't going to work for us at this point (though I do sometimes let him fuss a bit and, once in awhile, he settles right back down).  When Axel cries, he gets himself more and more tense, working up into a fervor of sorrow and terror and anger and it's not the sort of thing that either of us can endure.  He doesn't just quiet down after five minutes and, while I imagine he would stop crying eventually, I'm not willing to wait and see how long that would take. 

     

    I am a girl who needs her sleep.  Sleep, chocolate, and running keep me sane and away from depression.  I can fall asleep anywhere, at almost any time.  In grad school, I napped on my man's shoulder in bars a few times.  I never pulled an all-nighter in college because, even with the shakes from too much No Doze and soy lattes, I just couldn't keep myself awake.  I can't think of anything nicer than an afternoon nap on a couch warmed by the sun.  And babies need sleep, too.

     

    Axel, however, does not understand any of this.  You can't reason with babies.  All of my pleading has failed to convince him to sleep a bit longer.  My attempts to communicate with his subconscious by whispering into his ear about how much he loves sleep and how he's going to sleep all night long as I rock him don't gain me any extra winks.  He doesn't care when I tell him he's being a huge butthead, though calling him does make me feel a little bit better and sometimes sets off one of those exhausted giggling fits.  Babies, I am even more convinced, are crazy.  He's got to sleep eventually, right?  I mean, I've never heard of a fifteen-year-old who needs his parents to rock him to sleep at 3 am.  If he wakes up hungry when he's fifteen, he can get his own damn snack.  All I can do is ride out the newest wave of baby insanity.

     

     

     

     

     

     


  • Four Months

    Axel had his four month check up this morning.  Here are his stats:

     

    Height: 23 1/2 inches

    Weight: Almost 12 pounds

    Head circumference: 16 2/3 inches

     

    He's still wee, in the 10th percentile for height and weight, though his head continues to pork out - it's in the 50th percentile.  Pretty soon he'll need a wheeled cart on which to drag around his oversized melon as he does a crab walk.  Our fabulous pediatrician, with his years of experience with worry-wart mamas like me, immediately reassured me that his growth is just fine, and I need not worry.  He's a lean breastmilk-fed boy. 

     

    Eyes: Bluish, with a brown spot in the right one.  They still have the gray-blue of my husband's eyes, with what looks like a dirt smudge on the iris. 

    Hair: Losing it.  The bald spot in the back is spreading, and he's now sporting ragged, scraggly patches of hair between the growing bare spots.  We'll be able to grease up his shiny bald head by the time he's six months old. 

     

    Likes: Pacifiers. Tummy time.  Naps.   Rolling over.  Grabbing his feet, especially while wearing polka dot socks.  Standing while supported.  Babbling with me about world peace and architecture and Edith Wharton as I wipe poop of his butt.  Listening to me sing a medley of songs from Grease and the under-rated Grease 2 (there's an elaborate song and dance number in a bowling alley. Axel loves it.).  Watching the dog walk by.  Kicking - anything.  Sticking giraffes and rattles and plastic rings and napkins and, especially, hands in his mouth.  Grabbing his tongue with his thumb and forefinger. 

     

    Dislikes: Pacifiers.  Tummy time.  Naps.  Rolling over.  Yes, he's a fickle little peanut.

     

    Allergies: Probably not.  Though his excema's a little better, and we defeated the evil diaper rash, his doctor doesn't think he was reacting to things I've been eating or not eating.  Yay for chocolate cake!  I'm going to go out and get one right now.  This may foil the baby weight-loss plan, but I'm tired, and a girl needs cake when she doesn't have sleep.  Speaking of sleep...

     

    Sleep:  Oh, sleep, how I miss you.  I'm too tired to go into this right now, but next time, I'll blog about Axel's four month sleep regression.  He has become the tiny, sleepless baby king of the crankies.  Who knew this was common?  OK, a lot of people know - but I wasn't one of them until a few nights ago. 

     

     



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About the Blogger

Oz Spies

Oz Spies in Denver

Oz Spies lives in Denver, Colorado with her husband, a firefighter; their son, Axel; and a slightly obese dog and cat. She has a MFA in Creative Writing from Colorado State University.

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