Shhh...do you hear that? That is the sound of a baby not crying, for a change.
In the last week or so, things have improved somewhat. I'd say that we have turned a corner, except that every time I have written or said that to anyone recently, we immediately experience a day from hell. Lest the colic gods smite me yet again, I will just say that we are perhaps slowly making our way out of the labyrinth of Colt's first three months.
With the smugness of an experienced parent, I had blithely assumed that I would breastfeed Colt, just I had done with Botany and that it would prove the primary weapon in my arsenal of soothing. From day one, however, the course of nursing my second child has not run quite as smoothly. While he has a beautiful- indeed, I would describe it as textbook- latch, he doesn't always manage it right away. Frequently, he flails away at it for a few minutes before giving up and shrieking in frustration. Which is not such a big deal in the daytime, but rather disconcerting at 3am. Then of course, he struggles with my fire hydrant spray of oversupply. In particular, I have one little bleb thing I cannot seem to fully clear and it continually comes unblocked in his mouth, leading him to pull off in a frantic choking manner while a geyser of milk shoots into his face, into the pillow, across the room before I manage to grab a cloth.
Finally, once he finishes feeding, he often commences wailing anywhere from immediately to within half an hour. Or, sometimes he merely looks a bit worried, then vomits copiously all over me or Knox. Today he puked like an experienced drunk, calmly leaning over Knox's arm and spewing onto the living room carpet. He is usually much more cheerful afterwards, lying on the changing mat grinning and kicking happily.
In short, it is far from a blissful and relaxing experience. And unlike Botany, nursing him down to sleep has proved just about impossible.This flummoxed me initially until it finally dawned on my sleep deprived brain that we needed to try something different.
Instead, we finish up the last feed of the evening, keep him upright for a bit, let him do whatever regurgitation he might wish together with any general witching hour screaming. Then when he starts to yawn and glaze over, I pop him into his sleepyhead pod (a fantastic bit of Swiss invention) with his binky and I put on the sound of the surf on the white noise Ipad app. Sometimes he writhes and squeals for a bit, and I hold his hand. Then he shuts his little eyes and goes to sleep for six or seven hours. It is, frankly, amazing. I don't exactly expect it to continue but so far, either Knox or I can do it and compared to the endless nursing down of Botany, it is a revelation. And as I begin to regain some baby free time in the evening, I will eventually get around to writing the rest of the birth story, hopefully before his first birthday.