Six Weeks Old
A friend told me that a baby's fussiest period is between weeks 4-8. I am hoping this is true as we are smack in the middle of that window of time, and I can assure you that nothing is wrong with Rigby's lungs. He exercises them most evenings, falling into the stereotypical baby bewitching hour(s) routine which consists of loud wails and Mama bouncing him up and down in the baby Bjorn or baby wrap while trying to eat dinner and then passing him off to Pops or Nonna while we do Jack's bedtime story.
Our once magic sleeper-baby has woken up and turned into a real baby, a waker-baby. As of the past week, we seemed to have figured out our day time hours with a reliable routine of scheduled nursing times, the morning spent outside on the deck and then on a walk/run, 2 good naps (on his belly- please don't tell the baby police!), and then a crying period around our dinner time. But the night time, well that is a different story. He easily falls asleep in his crib after he nurses at 7:30pm, but this is the last reliable part of our day, This waker-baby of ours is loud, like really very LOUD, and he has decided that the crib is not the place for him after 11:00pm. It turns out that he would like to be held all the time extra please, and he hasn’t the faintest idea how to fall asleep and gets rather upset about it. And when I say upset, I mean he wails, he does not simply whine or fuss.
Remarkably, I have faced this wakeful, refusing to sleep in his crib baby business with patience, which is probably an artifact of this being baby number two (and last) and understanding that it passes so quickly these sleepy (sleepless) days. Of course, there are times in the night I have to say to myself, quit it. He is a newborn. He doesn’t have to shape up. He doesn’t have to get with the program. He can do whatever he wants or needs. One day all this lack of sleep and discussion about how to approach the nights will be a distant memory. I think I perhaps see his worst at midnight. But I’m not really seeing him, I’m just fretting over my lack of sleep and his future sleep habits, which is undeniably important but not the stuff that defines life.
I love when I am able to stay in the moment and see his best. Like when he wakes up to the sunlight and stares at me with his big blue eyes as he nurses. When Jack comes into our room in the mornings and crawls into bed next to us and Rigby just stares in awe at his big brother. When he curls up on his play mat or in our bed to take his naps with his little bottom sticking up into the air and his hands folded up underneath his face. When he perches on my shoulder or chest and I rub his bare back that feels softer than the softest fabric. I love watching him watch shadows dance or the leaves blow in the breeze. I love to watch him discovering the world and appreciating the things that are wondrous but often taken for granted. I am thankful for theses moments when I can take pause and dream about who he is right now and who he will be.
Sleep or no sleep, we love you sweet Rigby!