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screaming

BabiesThe Story

Confessions of a Ferber Flunkie

by Jill March 13, 2009
written by Jill

So I made a promise to myself back at the beginning of the month to blog more and then broke it about a day later.   It’s pretty much impossible to blog more when your brain isn’t functioning,  and your child is screaming at you 90% of the time he’s awake.  I think all of that could be overcome, however, if he wasn’t also screaming at me ALL NIGHT LONG.  I have no idea what has happened in the last week, but it’s so bad that even Ferber can’t help us.  I think the only thing we can do is perform an exorcism because, clearly, my son is possessed.

Now, I completely understand that he was sick last weekend and the beginning of this week, and I know he’s also cutting molars (STILL…probably will be FOREVER), but now add to that his sudden discovery of the temper tantrum and a healthy dose of separation anxiety, and it seems we are in the eye of the perfect storm of infant irritability.

It is beyond me how one little person can make so much noise and carry on for so long.  He’s impossible to please.  He wants up, I pick him up, he pushes me and wants down, I put him down, he pulls on my pants and tries to bite the back of my knees, I sit to hold him on my lap,  I have even begun DVRing Sesame Street to show him Elmo, he flings himself backward and screams, I put him down with some toys, he climbs back up on my lap and proceeds to hit me.  WTF, little man, WTF?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!  Now, NOW would be an excellent time to learn to talk, sign, draw, mime, some form of communication other than the incessant screams that I can’t decipher.

We’ve been to the pediatrician and the ER in the last week.  No signs of anything unusual going on.  The virus he had last weekend is gone, no ear infection.  I’m ashamed to admit, I was actually a tad disappointed the pediatrician didn’t see an ear infection.  Not because I wanted him to have one, but because at least that could explain what is going on.  Nope, he looks perfectly happy and healthy to her.  Of course he was a sweet angel full of smiles and giggles and puppies at the appointment.  It’s a shame, really, that she doesn’t do midnight house calls.

Every night this week has been increasingly hellish.  He is waking at least 4 times, and will scream non-stop for up to 2 hours.  Now, WAIT…just wait… all of you about to jump all over my case for letting my son scream for 2 hours at night.  No. That is not what’s going on here.  I’m not just lying in my bed with the monitor off, sleeping all peaceful with my dreams of Justin Timberlake and clearance sales at Express.  Much of that time that he’s screaming we are in his room with him.  Yes, that’s right!  We are holding him, rocking him, rubbing his head, he is still screaming.  Please understand that when I say he’s screaming, it’s not an exaggeration, but it’s not like an “I’m in pain” scream.  It’s an “I’m so freaking pissed that you are making me go to sleep AGAIN” scream.  This is not the kind of cry or fuss that I used to be able to listen to for the 5-10 minutes it would take for him to fall asleep with the Ferber method.

I am such a Ferber Failure.  I’ve gone back to nursing him 2 times a night just so we can all get some sleep.  Even though, most of the time that still doesn’t do much to soothe him.  Co-sleeping is not an option for us.  NONE of us sleep well co-sleeping, especially Kendall, who tends to sleep crawl and headbutt me.  Plus, if he screams while we hold him and rock him, I doubt he will want to snuggle or cuddle.  We give him infant Motrin for teething pain, and teething tablets.  I have no reason to think he’s got any sort of tummy pain or gas.  I’m at a loss.  Each night I think it’s going to get better, and it only gets worse. What am I doing wrong?  Is it getting worse because we aren’t doing Ferber anymore?  Is it Daylight Savings Time?  Is he testing us?  Is this separation anxiety?  Is Freddy Krueger haunting his dreams?

Please.  Insight.  Help.

Kendall is 10 months, 1 week and 4 days old

March 13, 2009 17 comments
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BabiesThe Story

The 2 Second Rule – Never let them see you flinch

by Jill January 3, 2009
written by Jill

As I type this, the gooseegg on my son’s forehead is growing larger by the second.  The bruise appears to be getting darker, yet Kendall seems unfazed as he happily munches and sucks on his mesh feeder full of frozen mango.  I wish I could say this was the first/only/last noggin blemish he has or will experience, but so far it’s just the most prominent since it happens to be right above his eye and not covered by any hair.  In fact, it seems no matter how many times he lets go of something while standing and hits his head on the way down he just doesn’t get that next time he will get the same result.  I guess he hasn’t reached that mental milestone yet.  Or do men ever really get that concept?  Perhaps they do.  It’s just that they don’t really care.

Maybe that’s the case here because many times it seems Kendall just doesn’t really care about the pain inflicted by the corner of the wall as he smacks his cheek against it and slides all the way down to the baseboard.  Other times, a seemingly innocuous topple can send him into a wail that can rival a fire engine.  I can’t quite figure out the equation that equals a scream for mommy’s quick rescue.

Fully standing + smacking right temple on exersaucer + landing on butt = a brief pause, followed by a devilish glance back at the very same thing that assaulted him, and a giggle.  Pulled to knees + face planting into the carpet = puckered lips and whimpering.  Hanging onto the pantry door with one hand + letting go only to find out that gravity is a bitch + cracking his head on the hinge on the way down = a cry for mom that almost convinced me he had a concussion.

And every single time I see him start to falter, I want so badly to run for him and catch him.  Every time I see him land, I want to gasp out loud because my gut reaction is horror, honestly.  But, I don’t. He falls if I can’t help it, which ( since I don’t make it a practice to follow him around the house with a pillow in hand) is quite often, and instead of shouting what is going through my head “*GASP* OH MY GOD!! ARE YOU OKAY??!!!  I AM SO SORRY!  I AM THE WORST MOTHER EVER!!!”,   I wait those very important 2 seconds.  Those 2 very long seconds when HE decides if he’s going to care about the pain.

It’s one of those lessons…straight from the invisible book of parenthood.  Don’t let them see you flinch.  Fake it till you make it.  When you see them fall and you want to scream out and rush to kiss their boo boos – DON’T.  Instead, put a big fat smile on that face of yours and say as loud as possible, “Whoopsie!”  or “Uh oh!” or something similarly lame. Oddly enough, this seems to work about 70 percent of the time.  Even after falls that make ME want to cry. But it all rides on those 2 seconds where he lies there silently twisting his face into what will either become a grin sometimes followed by a giggle or silent gasping scream.  And I just wait and watch with a smile as big as I can make it.

Nobody ever really told me about this “rule”.  I guess it comes after witnessing kids and babies respond to how their parents react.  However, I did read something a while back in the surprisingly alarmist book about baby food called  Super Baby Food that I think takes the theory to a level of ridiculousness.  Author Ruth Yaron warns in Chapter 3 on Baby’s First Meal, sub-section “Poop Panic”:

Remember to keep your facial expression pleasant when you are changing your baby’s diaper.  (With some poops, this may be a real challenge!)  He will notice any look of disgust on your face, which may teach him that his private parts are repulsive and lead him to believe that sex is “dirty” when he gets older.

Well, thank you for that Ruth!  We FINALLY get to the heart of the matter.  Because of your insight, I’ll know exactly why my son will end up in therapy.  Surely not because of the crying it out, but because of the expression on my face when I peel that diaper open to find whipped sweet potatoes dotted with chunks of peas that strangely smell like buttered toast.

Kendall is 8 months and one day old and looks like he’s just finished a game of rugby

January 3, 2009 6 comments
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