Confession

Vincent had 4 shots on Monday and it's made for a rough few days/nights. He doesn't have a fever, but he's been uncharacteristically fussy and apparently determined NOT to go to sleep at night. We haven't made it to bed before 330AM the past few nights, which honestly wouldn't be that bad except for the fact that he's been crying or just plan fussy from about 1100PM on. After that second hour where he's inconsolable it really starts wearing on me (us).

I am thankful that I have such great friends who warned me that there would be nights like these, though I don't think I really had any clue just how hard they would be. At least I was somewhat prepared when they arrived -- not to mention the fact that I have such a supportive husband who, as if on cue, comes walking down the stairs to give me some relief just when I think I can't handle another minute of failure. And that's what it feels like -- failure.

I've read that we are hardwired to have a certain reaction to our own baby's cries. It's really quite inexplicable just how intense of a reaction it is until you have a child of your own and you go through one of these rough nights. I share this not to scare any of you expecting parents out there, but so that you know you're not alone when it happens to you.

Last night, after Chris had already been down twice to help and I'd sent him back to bed for the last time, I thought I finally had Vincent down for the night (this was the third time I thought I had him down). As soon as we laid down though (as with the previous two times), the crying started all over again. I tried everything to calm him down but nothing seemed to work. He was really worked up at this point and the screaming in my ear was making me increasingly frustrated. I felt so helpless, but worse I was starting to feel something resembling anger which was immediately followed by guilt. How could I be mad at my poor baby, a person completely dependent on me to fulfill his needs -- a task I was completely and utterly failing to achieve? Chris calls it the ultimate mind-f@#$. And it is.

It was in this moment that I set down little Vincent on his changing table with a binkie in his mouth, barely able to see him through my own tears (I think I was crying as hard as he was by this time), and he immediately stopped crying. I stared at him for a few moments, feeling helpless, trying to think of what I could possibly try next to soothe and console him, and with more guilt than I've ever felt I said, "I love you Vincent." And guess what he did? He broke out into a smile so big that his binkie fell right out of his mouth. I immediately picked him up, held him close, and just sobbed. About 5 minutes later he was sound asleep in my arms.

And that's just how it goes sometimes. It was seemingly nothing at all that finally made him calm down. Just a few words ... a step back ... a look of desperation. What was it that worked? I honestly couldn't tell you, but wow what an intense night it was. By the time we finally laid down to sleep I just stared at him, stroking and kissing his little chubby cheeks for a while. I couldn't get past how much I love him and how bad I felt that I had gotten so worked up myself. Parenthood really does teach you how deep you can reach in moments when you feel like you want to give up, moments when you know giving up just isn't an option.

Like I said, I was so thankful that I knew I wasn't the first mother to go through this and surely wouldn't be the last. I was extremely grateful to my girlfriends who had shared (I'm sure I'd feel much worse now had they not), glad that I'd read up on how to handle these moments (set your baby down, etc), and I felt lucky to know that all I really had to do if I couldn't handle another second was to wake Chris (again) for support. It made me feel so sorry for parents out there doing it all alone. What would I have done without Chris? I guess we all manage with what we have, but I'm glad I have a wonderful husband to share it all with -- good times and bad.

As you can imagine, it's really hard to even share something like this. I do so in the same spirit that my friends shared with me ... so that you know you're not alone, so that you can let go of some of the guilt you feel after a night like this -- because wow, the guilt is intense. Right now I'm still feeling like I deserve the 'Bad Mother of the Year' award.

So, good luck to all you expecting parents out there. In case you want my advice, take care of each other and take turns trying to console your baby on nights like these -- because there will probably be nights like these -- and through it all hang on to the knowledge that there are far more good nights to come and enjoy with your little one.

And as always, we'll be here to commiserate with you when the time comes ...