Mother Moron

Yeah, that whole curing the fussiness thing? Not so much. I suspect the sleeping was more due to the shots he got and not the miracle cure of the $50 syrup. No, no, he was not better. Far from it. Twice a day Matt and I had to hold him down and inject this stuff into his mouth and hope it didn't choke him. Then I'd spend the next half an hour trying to reassure him while whispering, "I'm sorry, baby, honey, I'm so sorry." Sorry for what I'm not sure, other than the fact that I'd rather he never be uncomfortable or in pain.

We were back to 2 hours of sleep at a stretch. Just enough time for my head to hit the pillow, worry over everything I can't control and drift off for about 10 minutes before the screaming started again. So, we switched medication and decided to try generic Prilosec (which was thankfully covered.) Still, no good. Another thing we read about dealing with the reflux is that it usually calms down once the baby starts real food. I'd been dying to get him going on foods, but was trying to hold myself back. He was clearly interested and watched us intently at every meal.

On one particularly grueling day, I strapped him to my chest and we hiked up to Whole Foods to purchase some baby cereal that I'd thoroughly researched and deemed okay to feed for his First Food EVER. And he liked it! I wouldn't say love, but liked well enough. I thought now - NOW we shall sleep more! And no, he didn't.

And then I started thinking about all cow milk. Drinking the milk of another animal intended for their baby is weird. I mean, no matter how desperate I am, I've never reached for the boob milk container when we've been out of half and half for my morning coffee. Gross, right? And I'd read that people don't develop the enzyme to break down moo cow milk until around a year of age. Maybe, perhaps? Could that be my problem?

We switched out the formula that Matt feeds him when I'm away to soy and immediately there was improvement. Yay! Next problem? Now, he spit up huge and big and cried every time he fed from me. Me! I was the problem? Et tu Boob-e? That's never happened before. So, I did something drastic. Something that separates me from everyone I know... Something that makes me sympathetic to a vegan. I gave up dairy.

Trust me, you would too in this situation. Thankfully, I kind of hate milk anyway, but CHEESE? What about butter? Does butter count because no matter what that container says I can most certainly to tell that it is indeed NOT butter in that yellow tub. But I did it. I barely recognize myself. To compensate I've been making my morning fried egg in bacon grease. A girl's gotta do...

So, here we are on Day five billion of Operation Baby Sleep. I'm on day five of no cheese (no brie, Stilton, Gorgonzola, Gouda, Cheddar, Fontina, Parmesan, Chevre even! Just to be safe.) Finally - finally he's better. I also discontinued the syrup. It was so awful to administer and didn't seem to be doing any good anyway.

I'm happy to report that the River of Spitz has calmed to a mere brook and he is finally sleeping a little more. Not a ton, but occasionally we'll get a four hour stretch and I'll take it. Generally, he seems happier.

Now is when it dawned on us - why the heck didn't that suggestion come from a doctor? What is up with us and the medical community? From my absentee midwife to that moron on the nurse line to Matt's ongoing back issues - what the hey? Do I have to become one of those internet trollers that self-diagnoses and cures all ills by beating everything in sight with a giant elm tree branch? My God. Then my mother remembers that I was a projectile vomiting infant (loves to bring that up at Thanksgiving for some reason) and only now - NOW for the first time in thirtysmmmthn years does she mention that, Oh, yeah, that finally stopped when we put you on soy forumula. Duh.

So, we're getting there. I just keep flipping him around and tapping the bottom for wherever they put the instructions for this thing.