Rough doesn’t begin to describe the scene at our house last night.
Let me back up and start in the afternoon:
- 5:00pm – Pick Noah up from school. Head to the big city to run a few errands.
- 6:00pm – Kids Eat Free at EarthFare – always a favorite of the week.
- 7:45pm – Get back home. Give Bubs a bath. Get in jammies.
- 8:30pm – Give kisses, go night night.
- 8:45pm – Bloody murder scream from the boy’s room. Go in to survey the scene. Inconsolable. Pick up, stand and rock, continues screaming. Okay. Well. Take him into the living room figuring he hasn’t met his mama/daddy quota for the day since he’s been at school.
- 9:15pm – Falling asleep standing up, begins whaling. (Did I mention he rarely cries about anything?) Is it his teeth? Put finger in Bubs’ mouth. Yes, must be his teeth. Put amber necklace back on, give some acetaminophen – all the while he’s pushing against me to lay back on my knees. I lay him back. Falls asleep instantly. Weird. But okay. Hold him for a few more minutes then put him back in his bed. Turn a little music on. Silence.
- 9:45pm – Watch an episode of Netflix-ed Psych.
- 10:30pm – Our usual bedtime routine. Get in bed. Snuggle down with Poisonwood Bible.
- 10:35pm – Blood curdling scream over the monitor. What the heck? Wait a minute – screaming proceeds. Go check on him. Not happy (duh). Scoop him up and take him to the rocking chair. Squirms and cries and cannot be comforted. I lay him on my knees flat on his back. Out like a light. Still weird. Put baby boy back in his bed, head back to mine.
- 11:00pm – Make-the-paint-curl-off-the-walls scream over the monitor. Seriously? Daddy’s turn. Scenario much the same as above. Lays flat on back on knees and he’s out. Daddy returns to our room.
- 11:15pm – Hair-raising scream much louder than the rest over the monitor. I am at a total loss. Go to baby boy’s room. Scoop him up. This time I rock him like a baby alligator right away and then bring him back to our bed – this is an extremely rare occurrence. I pray that it will help. It doesn’t. We continue like this until 3am. Give baby boy more pain reliever, lay him in his bed. Out like a light until 8:45am.
A few things to know about Noah Matthew – he loves to sleep. He loves his bed. He loves to fall asleep on his own in his bed. It is few and far between when he lets us rock him to sleep – much less like a baby alligator:
I find myself at a total loss for what ailed our home last night. I go back and forth between wanting to cry because I know my little guy was in some sort of torturous pain that I couldn’t relieve him from, trying to remind myself that those moments are fleeting and I won’t always be able to scoop him up and lull him into a trance like a baby alligator, and feeling guilty about sending him to school because it must be correlated since he’s never done anything like this before. I could sit here and “if” until the cows come home but it would solve nothing, only perpetuate the self-loathing.
As I type, both of my boys are sleeping peacefully in their own beds. I likely should be, too, just in case we have a repeat episode. Pray that’s not the case – but if it is I will persevere, attempt to soak in that he needs me at least for now, and remind myself that it’s just one night’s sleep lost and to be thankful that I have a little baby alligator to sing a sweet lullaby to.