My friend said when it got really bad, I'd be willing to do anything for sleep. I didn't think she meant this.
Looking back, I realize now that Nathan was a really good baby. Don't tell him I told you that. He's a challenging toddler, but he was an easy baby. He went right into the bassinet to sleep flat. He soothed himself with the paci like a champ. He nursed really well once he got the hang of it. He crapped his pants all over everything multiple times a day, but he rarely spit up. Sydney is the complete opposite. At the beginning, she wanted no part of sleeping flat or the cat-cat paci. She wanted even less of my breast milk, and she spits up everything she puts down. Everything. Everywhere. Everything is wet. And smelly. It's honestly disgusting.
She also has terrible gas, and that combined with the not sleeping flat made for super-fun bedtimes every night. There was rarely any sleeping, for her, or for me. Instead there was just frustrated profanity-laced tirades because clearly babies understand you mean business when you throw in a couple F-bombs. And just when we had one really great night of 4 hour stretches in the bassinet, and I thought we'd finally turned a corner, it was followed by the next night of literally being awake screaming the entire night. The. Entire. Night.
I really didn't think it was possible for infants to stay awake for 8 hours straight, but apparently it is. She's really exceptional.
This is when you know you've hit rock bottom. I could barely handle the nights she was wide awake 8:30 pm to about 1am, but after just a few hours of precious sleep, I was able to regroup and stop considering offering my infant to random people on my town's freecycle Facebook page. However this night was different. She was asleep in the bassinet at 8pm, but woke up crying 30 minutes later. I went upstairs and gave her the cat paci, and just as her eyes got heavy and I thought I was winning, the cat fell out of her mouth making a loud popping sound, her eyes flew open and that was that. Every time we put her down after that, she'd scream and grimace. We burped her for hours to no avail. We did bicycle legs. Gripe water. Stomach massage. More food. More burping. More cursing. Nothing worked. She never went back to sleep until 6am.
That morning while she was finally peacefully asleep, but none of the rest of us were because Nathan was awake and had seamlessly taken over the screaming gig, a friend of mine was telling me about her experience with her daughter's reflux and gas issues. She said the one thing that had been a lifesaver was The Windi. I'd heard of it and could take an educated guess as to what the product did, but we'd never used it because Nathan didn't have gas issues. It's made by the same company as the NoseFrida, the device that lets you suck snot out of your baby's nose basically into your mouth, so I already had some idea that I wasn't going to enjoy whatever The Windi did.
When I told my Dad about The Windi, he asked if I was going to suck farts out of Sydney's behind. We really should have our own sitcom.
The instructions were quite clear. I mean, if you're into that kinda thing. When I read them to Josh he was horrified. Butt when you're desperate, you're desperate. See what I did there? Butt? He reluctantly wrote it down on the shopping list as "Fart stick," and made clear he wanted no part in it. I also wanted no part in it, but didn't mind having it in the house as an absolute last resort. Maybe just the threat of the Windi would be enough. Listen kid, go to sleep or I'll stick a plastic straw where the sun don't shine and suck your farts out...
...and with that I bid you adieu for 2019.