Shouldn’t I be writing about things getting easier? Isn’t that supposed to come at some point in baby rearing? This kid is going to kill me. Every single night this week she is waking up earlier and earlier and screaming bloody murder when I put her back in her crib. Every. single. night. I have now let her cry it out (didn’t work), gone into comfort her (didn’t work), prayed to Jesus (didn’t work), thought about getting hit by a car so I can go take a nap in the hospital (still considering). Last night was the fucking worst.
Charlotte woke up at 10:54 PM. This is a no-no. If she wakes up from 1:30 and later I will begrudgingly go in there and nurse her and put her back to sleep. I’ve done this all this week and she’s screamed like crazy before I even put her body back on the mattress, which is something she hasn’t done in MONTHS. But whatever. Last night when she got up I said she had to cry it out. I put a pillow over my head as she screamed. And screamed. And screamed some more. She finally lay back down and then every two minutes for close to an hour she moved around her crib moaning and screaming and kicking. Literally, every two minutes. I was timing this shit like contractions. Her cries are pretty much exactly like contractions because they are painful and keep me awake and make me miserable. I gave up and went in to nurse her and she calmed down and then she started to scream before I even got her back into the crib. After some more whimpering and moving around she went back to sleep around 12:30, and then woke up again at 2:52. I swear to God those screams are the sound track to my horror movie. At this point I gave the fuck up and just put her in bed with me, because crying it out didn’t work so let’s try co-sleeping once again! She would continually nurse on and off and then was up for the day at 5:22, smiling and giggling and talking like she was so well rested and trying to reach for the remote for the light which is her favorite fucking thing in the world. I am going to lose my shit.
I feel like there has to be some sort of reason for these new developing meltdowns. Is she teething? Is she too cold or too hot? Is she having separation anxiety? Is there a ghost? Is she afraid of the dark? Does she only cry if the day ends in Y? Nothing is getting easier and I am firmly in the only child camp at this stage. I love her, but I can’t keep doing this or doing it ever again. I’m going to die. I might already be dead.