Sleep deprivation does wonders for the economy. Our daughter has a $251 bed. It's made of undyed cotton and is promoted by Dr. Sears. It is supposed to be a miracle cure for babies who won't sleep, preemies, and babies with reflux. So that would be Abby, Abby, and Abby. (Let's not mention that Abby is Amby with a letter changed, which is the name of the bed.)This is how Mark and I decided to join the ranks of parents desperate enough to shell out cash for what looks like a hammock on a banana hanger.
After getting Abby home from the NICU in December, we began nights of hell in which we swaddled, unswaddled, and even put her down on her stomach. Because regardless of all those warnings and instructions they give you about SIDS, when it's 3am and you haven't slept, you're going to do WHATEVER works and pray that God will forgive you.(And watch out for you.) By the way did it ever occur to people that more babies die in cars driven by sleep deprived parents than from SIDS?
By the end of the first night home I had broken the laws laid down to me by the NICU nurses and had Abby wrapped in swaddling clothes. Because you know what? That's what they had done to her for the 20 days she was in the NICU! But of course they told me that they were allowed to swaddle her because they had the machines monitoring her and the nurses watching her. So if she were in danger of overheating, or suffocating on the blankets they were there.
You want to know how they told me to put her down? Flat on her back with a blanket tucked under her arms and then tucked around and under the mattress. First you find me a blanket that is long enough to go from one end of the bassinet to the other so that it tucks in on all sides. Then tell me how to secure it so the child will not thrash it out from under the flimsy bassinet mattress. (And you can't use staples or pins that would be baaaad.)
Her arms were supposed to be free to flail about in case she was passing away from carbon dioxide poisoning. (Rebreathing. Although how she would be in danger of rebreathing when she wasn't swaddled I don't know.) Flapping is what Abigail did. She flailed the blanket away from her body and then she flailed her little arms in her face. You know that startle reflex most newborns have? The one where they flap their arms? Hmm. Let's leave her arms free so that every time she moves or twitches she can startle and really flap. The poor girl looked like she was going for lift off in the bassinet! Either that or doing the wave. "It's 2 am and I'm awake, do the wave! Woohoo!"
I had her butt swaddled in the Swaddle-Me blanket by the end of night one. That's about as far as my good mothering went. (But that's not as far as I'd like to THROW the nurses who told me not to swaddle her because she'd overheat and die, blah blah blah.)
So night one ended with a swaddled Abby sleeping for a grand total of 1 hour uninterrupted before waking to feed. (At the time I was pumping so she would get breast milk which is a WHOLE other blog entry to come.) This one hour was such a success that she proved she could do a 2 hour stretch as well. At 10 am. And then she did another 2 somewhere around 2pm. When both Mommy and Daddy were awake because it was Christmas vacation and we had a 10 yr old and a 15 month old to take care of who didn't believe "Let's All Nap" is a real game. But we did get to look in on her and say "ahh how sweet, someone is getting sleep."
This statement quickly became "ahh how sweet we gave birth to a vampire." Because Abby Jean loved to prove she could do long stretches of peaceful sleeping in daylight. Another benefit of having a baby spend 20 days in the NICU. No difference between day and night. They may have dimmed the lights some, but with fresh-faced nurses coming on shift at 8pm, who cared if a baby woke up and fussed throughout the night? And honestly with all the bells and whistles that would go off it's no wonder Abby came home a fitful sleeper.
At least that is what I thought was her problem during week 1. It was Post NICU stress. She was adjusting. She needed to be swaddled. Maybe we needed more lights on. Maybe we needed more bells and whistles. Maybe she needed more breast milk.
And so the fussing and desperation began..
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