Can Babies Have Insomnia? Apparently, Yes!
Our little family as been truckin' along in the sleep department. I wouldn't say Lilli is a champion sleeper, yet. She still wakes up occasionally in the night, but those occurences are getting fewer and fewer. The thing we've never had a problem with, however, is getting her to go to sleep. She's always seemed to enjoy the process more than not, and even if she protests at the moment of truth, she usually resigns herself to the inevitable pretty quickly, gives our her kisses, and falls asleep peacefully.
Last night? Not the case.
We followed our routine, she happily laid down and snuggled in, she talked to herself and us in perhaps slightly more animated tones than usual, but then she laid quietly. And laid quietly some more. And continued to lie there, eyes open, looking about as perplexed as frustrated as we were that sleep wouldn't come. Finally, I suggested that Bob take her in the car and drive around, as she had almost fallen asleep on the way home from his grandma's earlier in the evening. I was smug and confident that he would be back within ten minutes. Forty minutes later, he called me on the cell, desperate. "She just keeps staring at me and saying 'hi, daddy!' and commenting on the scenery. We've been around the city about three times!" By this time it was a quarter to eleven o'clock, and we had spent 45 minutes trying to get her to sleep in the bed and 40 minutes trying to get her to sleep in the car. Clearly, our baby is a superhuman baby whose covert mission it is to destroy our will when she has lulled us into a comfortable state and we are most unsuspecting. I could almost imagine her in the car seat, eyes glowing malevolently like one of the Children from Children of the Corn.
Bob decided to give in and come home but only a few blocks from our house she started to doze off and when he called me from our driveway he sounded quietly triumphant. I went out to get her and her eyes were definitely not glowing. She was all warm and sweet, chin to chest, snoozing away. I carefully worked her out of the seat and crept back in to the house. I was slowly lowering her in the crib when. . . I couldn't believe it. But it was unmistakable. The smell of poop. In her diaper. Oh the injustice of it! I couldn't just let her sit in it all night (even though she had probably done it on purpose!) so I carefully worked off her pants and quietly removed the diaper to reveal a giant nugget of poop. To make a long story short, try as I might to be as minimally disruptive as possible, she woke up. And was mad. And wouldn't go back to sleep. AGAIN.
After much nursing, and singing, and hand holding and soothing, AND another half an hour, she was finally asleep by midnight. It was the hardest fought bedtime that Bob and I had ever experienced. You would think that after that she would sleep in a little right? Nope. Up bright and early at 6am. How can six hours of sleep leave her bright eyed and bushy tailed and I'm a wreck? She's superhuman, I'm telling you.
Last night? Not the case.
We followed our routine, she happily laid down and snuggled in, she talked to herself and us in perhaps slightly more animated tones than usual, but then she laid quietly. And laid quietly some more. And continued to lie there, eyes open, looking about as perplexed as frustrated as we were that sleep wouldn't come. Finally, I suggested that Bob take her in the car and drive around, as she had almost fallen asleep on the way home from his grandma's earlier in the evening. I was smug and confident that he would be back within ten minutes. Forty minutes later, he called me on the cell, desperate. "She just keeps staring at me and saying 'hi, daddy!' and commenting on the scenery. We've been around the city about three times!" By this time it was a quarter to eleven o'clock, and we had spent 45 minutes trying to get her to sleep in the bed and 40 minutes trying to get her to sleep in the car. Clearly, our baby is a superhuman baby whose covert mission it is to destroy our will when she has lulled us into a comfortable state and we are most unsuspecting. I could almost imagine her in the car seat, eyes glowing malevolently like one of the Children from Children of the Corn.
Bob decided to give in and come home but only a few blocks from our house she started to doze off and when he called me from our driveway he sounded quietly triumphant. I went out to get her and her eyes were definitely not glowing. She was all warm and sweet, chin to chest, snoozing away. I carefully worked her out of the seat and crept back in to the house. I was slowly lowering her in the crib when. . . I couldn't believe it. But it was unmistakable. The smell of poop. In her diaper. Oh the injustice of it! I couldn't just let her sit in it all night (even though she had probably done it on purpose!) so I carefully worked off her pants and quietly removed the diaper to reveal a giant nugget of poop. To make a long story short, try as I might to be as minimally disruptive as possible, she woke up. And was mad. And wouldn't go back to sleep. AGAIN.
After much nursing, and singing, and hand holding and soothing, AND another half an hour, she was finally asleep by midnight. It was the hardest fought bedtime that Bob and I had ever experienced. You would think that after that she would sleep in a little right? Nope. Up bright and early at 6am. How can six hours of sleep leave her bright eyed and bushy tailed and I'm a wreck? She's superhuman, I'm telling you.
posted by mariko at 12:22 PM
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