Of Curve Balls, Crying and Craving Sleep

A few days ago at work, The B found himself telling his colleague, who also has young children, how we seemed to have figured Baby Max out.

"He's such a good baby and only cries when he wants something," said The B. "I think we've pretty much got him figured out."

"Well, you think you do and then they throw you a curve ball," said The B's colleague. "Babies are just like that, they're constantly changing."

Well, the B's confidence was based on the first two weeks - what many child care experts call the "Honeymoon" period or the time from birth to approximately the two-week mark. It was false assurance.

On Sunday night, Baby Max, now in his third week, threw us a curve ball.

We naively assumed that because he was sleeping longer at night last week, he was well on his way to sleeping through the night. We confidently assumed that we, newbie parents, had been blessed with the least fussiest baby on the block and that we'd skipped "that fussy period of the first few weeks."

Well, we were wrong.

That night, and a few nights after, Baby Max kept us up into the wee hours of the morning with his fussing and crying. One night, The B even went to the local drugstore and bought every brand of pacifier available, thinking that a soothie would help The Maxity.

All the experts I've read all say that the first six weeks tend to be the toughest because both baby and parents are adjusting to the massive lifestyle change. They also say that between two and six weeks, fussiness (for the average, garden-variety baby, like Max) peaks. One author even went so far as to say that for the average baby, "something magical happens at six weeks," where the crying and (sometimes) extreme fussiness tends to wane.

We're keeping our fingers crossed. If that's true, then we've only got about a fortnight to go.

Lately I've noticed that Baby Max can swing from one extreme to the next, seemingly in seconds. One moment he's calm. One second - a split second - later he's screaming like he's being drawn and quartered. And when he reaches the pinnacle of one of his crying episodes, he almost sounds like a bleating lamb. Imagine a cry punctuated by verbrato. (My brother, Uncle D, can do a great impression of this!) And as bizarre as this may sound, sometimes The B and I find this Jekyll and Hyde-like behaviour somewhat humorous (depending on how much sleep we've managed to eek out!)

Baby Max has also started to make a lot more squeaks, peeps and grunts during his sleep. It's something I'm also getting used to. He's also become a lot gassier - like the planet Jupiter. I swear, during most of his waking moments, the poor lad is trying to squeeze out the gas from his body. I've realized that pumping his legs - in essence creating a "fart pump" helps to rid some of the gas. The rest comes out in burps or spit ups.

Now, almost four weeks in, I've come to realize the importance of what many have said while I was pregnant: "Get as much sleep as you can because when the baby comes, you won't be getting any." Yes, there is a lot of truth to that, but I've also been managing to combat the sleep deprivation and broken sleep by napping during the day and just taking it easy. It is helping. A little.

It's funny how I used to take something, like sleep, for granted. Before the baby came, sleep was nothing I really thought much of. It was a given. Of course I would sleep at night. These days, sleep has become a hot commodity. And I've noticed that many other parents feel the same way - especially how they talk about it - quantify it. As new parents we've concluded that a measure of a successful night is based on how many hours of consecutive sleep we got. For us, sleep has become the new currency. More of it and you can "afford" to do more during the day, like go to the mall or go for a walk. Faced with the prospect that we could be sleep deprived for many more months or even years, The B and I are really taking it one step at a time.

When Baby Max was born my mother-in-law, Judy, gave us a card with a very wonderful saying. In fact her grandfather, Barton Wheelwright, had written it when her son, my brother-in-law, Dave was born. She's kept it all these years. I think it best sums up our "investment."

"Congratulations and our best love on your election to that ancient and honourable group known as Parents Inc. While the initiation fee is small, the annual dues are what count, usually they go up. However, while the cost is high, so are the rewards, may yours be very, very rich."

Here's to striking the gold mine.