We are in teething hell once again. My memory is a bit hazy, but I’m fairly certain this is the worst it’s ever been for our poor girl—and that’s saying something because teething has never been kind to her.
We got up with her around 2:30 am. I nursed her and rocked her in the dark for a bit before putting her back in her crib and sneaking back to my own bed. The quiet lasted for about ten minutes. Long enough to believe it was going to stick, which made it all the more painful when she started crying again. I waited. The crying stopped again after less than a minute. Relief. I closed my eyes. More crying. A minute goes by and the crying stops again. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes and then wham—more crying.
This went on for about 45 minutes.
I don’t often leave Charlotte to cry in her crib, but I do generally wait to see if the crying is really going to stick or if she’s just going to squawk for a moment and then go right back to sleep. In this case, neither sleep nor extended crying happened, but I gave up and went back into her room once it became clear that none of us were going to get any sleep if we didn’t get this kid back to dreamland.
Wrong answer. We walked into her room and she started SCREAMING. The kind of sobs that leave you soaking wet and gasping for air. No amount of rocking/nursing/singing/soothing was calming her down. We tried to get some Motrin in her and the screaming escalated to a place I didn’t even know existed.
That’s how we found ourselves watching Sesame Street at 3:30 am. At 4 am, she scooted herself out of my lap, grabbed one of my knitting needles off the coffee table and took off through the house in her footed pajamas with a squeal of delight.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I adore playing with my kid. I love when she gets silly and runs through the house like a wild banshee. But at 4 am, I don’t love anything except sleep. I scooped up my little wild thing and we returned to her bedroom while she twisted in my arms and screamed NO NO NO NO NO.
I was back in my bed at 4:17 am. Catch’s alarm goes off at 5, so she never even bothered coming back to bed, opting for a spot on the couch with a blanket and a warm hound.
Today, my body aches and my eyes feel like sandpaper.
I am telling you this to explain why we will not be having another child. Nope. Not happening. One and done. Thank you very much, universe, for our precious gift. Future precious gifts can involve sleep, coffee, alcohol, or cash. Babies are officially off the Christmas list.
Edited to add: