The Turning Point

I think that just about every mom I've spoken to tells of a real turning point with their babies. Six weeks...2 months...etc. For us, I think it was lucky number 7. Seven months for sweet Baby G to come into his own. Some just blossom later than others...

We're seeing more smiles than tears around here these days. And a ton of squeals of delight!

I'm about 100% certain that I am jinxing us by writing this, but it just feels so good to be a little bit relaxed for once. Yeah, I know that point at 5 1/2 months when I took him to the doctor and we solved those milk allergy woes was definitely a moment to remember, but even though G was no longer spending the majority of his waking hours crying, he was still a squirmy little handful.

Things were much, much better, but we still had this problem of the early bedtime that could not be solved. He would lose it during the 4 o'clock hour, and it took everything we had to keep him up to just 5:30. When I was alone with him in the afternoons, I think he must've known I was stressed, and he was always such a disaster. I had to strap him to me in the Ergo. It was the only thing that worked. He would then usually wake up at least once at night and then be up for the day around 5 or 6. Not unmanageable, so we kept up this pattern forever until it was time to try something new. But keeping him awake till 7 led to two nighttime wakings, plus that meant dealing with Disaster Boy for that much longer at night. Dream feed at 8? No change in sleep patterns, just a diaper leak and pee all over the crib. I tried everything to make the late afternoon/early evening thing just a nap, but he wouldn't get back up. He's a poor napper during the day, and he was just DONE by this time of the afternoon. He started sleeping through the night most of the time, but he was up at 5 (or sometimes earlier.) I just learned to live as a tired person. Not the worst thing ever.

And then on Tuesday, when our friends were here, G popped up wide awake at 6:40 to re-join the party. And he slept so good that night after he went back down! It's like he had to decide on his own that he would sleep the hours of a normal person. As I look back, I've had the worst time trying to manipulate him to do anything. Gavin is his own master. And for the last few nights, he's been totally fine staying up till 7, goes right to sleep without a fuss, and is up at 6. I'm a morning person. I am more than okay with this schedule. And now, if certain people in this house didn't have to get up at 3am on a Saturday for an impromptu work trip, all of my sleep woes would be solved.

But it wasn't just the sleep. He was just never content to sit in one place for very long. I couldn't tend to a single task for longer than five minutes. My to-do list was out of control. I don't think he was an especially bad baby, just not a baby that someone could describe as really good. He cried a lot. But lately, I've hardly heard him cry, unless he falls on something...which has a happened. (A few times. Doh.) And even now, he's sitting on the floor with his favorite plastic hose only partially supervised while I write this, and he's totally fine. Specifically, he is army crawling toward the DVR to push the buttons, but I could care less. This would have never happened last month.

I think we may even be able to start running errands on the way home from work instead of heading straight home for Disaster Hour with a whiny baby in the backseat. Going out in the public may turn out to be a normal experience and not a total shitshow after all.

Fat guy in a little tub.

It really makes you think about all the things you heard about raising a baby. I know at least a few people said, "Do what works for you. No baby is like the next, all the rules do not apply to all the babies." I wish I had taken this more seriously. Take crying-it-out, for example. I thought I was an idiot that I couldn't get this to work. "You have to let them cry it out and learn how to get to sleep independently," was one perspective. The other was, "Don't let your baby cry it out. It's traumatizing for him. If he's crying, he needs you, and you must go to him. He'll never feel secure if you let him cry, and he will not grow up to be confident." What on earth was I supposed to do with all this info? We tried crying it out a few times (12 minutes was my longest stretch!), but it's not something that could work for G. Or for me. That's fine.

That, and a million other things. ("No screen time till age 2." Ha, whatever. "Don't get in the habit of rocking your baby to sleep." But why would I not? It's my most favorite 15 minutes of the day!) There's a reason that babies don't come with user manuals. It's because they're human, and not everything works like it's supposed to for all babies. Gavin has been a huge challenge. His cry is loud...and was very frequent for his first six months. His appetite continues to dominate all of our lives, and his formula must be made of 24-carat gold powder because it puts a serious dent in my pocketbook. I couldn't have known he would come out this way, but I honestly believe that God only gives people what they can handle. I know that those closest to me are surprised that I survived having a difficult baby, but I'm proud of myself for doing it, especially for those times when I had nobody for back-up. I came out of it alive and mostly healthy. I have a few extra wrinkles and some bags under my eyes, but my hair is not gray. And, finally, I'm earning some street cred with my family. A couple of times I almost threw objects (not a baby) at our walls out of frustration. Typically, I don't resort to violence. I told Dylan that if Gavin had been colicky, our walls would most definitely have several war wounds. I was definitely at the limit of what I could handle by myself, but I did it, and Gavin is alive and well...and huge.

Playing the drums on dad's bare belly. So much fun!

From the mothers of other high-needs babies, I hear that the reason these babies are so demanding is because they're built to get what they want out of life. They're going places. They will grow up to be independent, make things happen, shake things up, and just be overall awesome. Sure, I can get on board with that theory. If it makes me believe it was all due to more than just bad luck, then okay. All I know for sure is that Gavin is the light of my life and the lives of his dad and grandparents too. His smile and laugh melt my heart. He's so, so hilarious and about the cutest thing I've ever seen. I wouldn't trade him for anything, my ravenous, fussy, squirmy, lively, demanding, powerful, hilarious, constantly-in-motion, curious, turd factory of a little human.

Next up is crawling. My life will be over (again).