It was May 24, 2005

One of the longest nights of my life. And I remember it well. It was before I formally started this blog, so there is no real record of it, except in the minds of those dwelling in this house. H and I both remember it. Vividly. It seems so long ago, but I was reminded of it last night.

May 24, 2005

J was a very colicky baby. We weren't sure what to do for him. We'd take him for car rides, and that really seemed to help. When he was hungry, I'd feed him and he'd puke it all up and then need to eat again. All I remember of those first few months was the utter exhaustion and the screaming crying baby. He was acting like he was in such pain, and it hurt me so much that I couldn't help him. I just didn't know what to do.

Colic hits a peak at a certain point, and then it improves. But when it reaches that peak, watch out; it ain't pretty. May 24, 2005. J's peak.

H and I were trying to go to sleep on May 23. J insisted on staying up late. When we finally got him calm and into his crib, it was early morning on the 24th. We would now go to sleep.

"NO!" said J.

At 2:00 a.m. on May 24, 2005, J awoke. Screaming. And screaming, and screaming, and screaming, and screaming ... H got him up and changed him. J screamed. I fed him. He puked. I fed him again. He puked again. H held him. J screamed. I held him. J screamed. We walked the floor with him. J screamed. I tried to feed him again. He puked again.

And it just continued. H and I took turns. All night long on May 24, 2005. Trying to keep J calm. Trying to help him. We couldn't figure out what to do. Nothing would help. And he kept puking, and then looking for more food. He was so hungry, but he just couldn't keep it down. And I fed him, and fed him, and fed him. But it didn't help.

Sometimes, when J would scream and scream with the colic, we would put him in the car and drive. But by this time, it was 4:00 a.m., and H had to work at 9:00, and I didn't want to be out on the road at that time of night, driving around, too exhausted to pay attention. So we suffered through it. No car ride for J.

I took J out of the bedroom. I figured that way, at least H could get some sleep. I changed J, and then I went into the office and sat down to try to feed him again. And he screamed and screamed. And puked. And finally, he drifted off. At around 6:00 a.m. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I went back into the bedroom to put J into his crib. He awoke as soon as we got into the bedroom, and started screaming again. I took J back into the office. H asked if there was anything he could do, and I said no. I told him that he needed to sleep; there was no point in both of us being up all night. I returned to the office, where I sat in front of the computer and tried to nurse J again. But he'd fed so profusely through the night that my milk was gone. There was nothing there for him. He was angry, and his screaming became even louder. And to make matters worse, anytime he did manage to take any milk in, he'd puke again. I was sore and tired and stressed, and I couldn't come up with anything else that would help him.

I walked him, rocked him, sang to him, cuddled him, gave him his soother, tried to feed him, (at one point, exclaiming "You've sucked me dry"), and I just couldn't get him to sleep. He absolutely would not stop crying.

Finally, at 6:30 a.m., I broke down. H heard me start to sob, and he came out and took J. I collapsed beside my computer, crying.

J finally went to sleep for a couple of hours at 7:00 a.m.

On May 24, 2005, my sister-in-law was scheduled for a C-section for their second child. My family was, obviously, unavailable. I didn't know how I was going to get through the day. I'd had absolutely no sleep, and I would have no help available. H called in from work, citing exhaustion and the needs of his crazed and sleep-deprived family as his particular illness. Everyone understood; his supervisors have children.

May 24, 2005.

I'd not forgotten it. But I'd pushed it into the back of my mind. But last night ... last night ...

Last night, H and I got to go to Horizon Stage and see The Arrogant Worms. It was a fantastic concert! One of the guys (Trevor Strong) has recently become a father, and he wrote a song about parenting. It's called "Go To Sleep Little Leech", and it is on their "Beige" CD. I haven't laughed so hard in such a long time. I totally identified with that song.

Why? See for yourself; (I found this online this morning. I hope the link doesn't expire). Or, if you'd prefer, you can always just read the lyrics here and avoid a potentially lengthy download time.

Go To Sleep Little Leech
by The Arrogant Worms

As a small baby each time I cried
My mother came to me
To calm my worries and ease my fears
With a sweet melody
I remember hearing the sound of her voice
As I screamed in my drool and my pee
She'd slug back some whiskey, light up a smoke
And gently sing to me

Go to sleep little leech you've sucked mama dry
Made her more crazy with every cry
Why weren't we more careful that night on the beach?
Go to sleep, go to sleep, little leech

I grew into a terrible teen
And ate all my parents' food
Stole all their liquor, broke their antiques
Wore stupid clothes and was rude
One night I drove the car home covered
In vomit and missing a door
But my Dad didn't yell, he just smiled as he said
"Son you don't live here no more"

Go to sleep little leech you've sucked us bone dry
Stolen our money and will to survive
But you're old enough now to kick out on the street
Go to sleep, go to sleep, little leech

Now I'm a father with my own child
Who screams and screams and screams
He screams and screams and screams and screams
And screams and screams and screams
I'm up at eleven and two and four
And all I can do is yell "why?"
And I swear that I hear my mom laughing at me
As I sing that lullaby

Go to sleep little leech you're driving me mad
Sometimes I dream that I'm not your real dad
It's five in the morning I work in the day
Go to sleep little leech or get sold on Ebay
Go to sleep little leech, everyone tells
Me you're an angel, but I know you're from hell
How else could nine pounds six ounces make such a screech
Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep you little creep
I beseech yee little leechy, go to sleep

Laughing hard and struggling for breath, we left for intermission. And I told H that I felt the song had been written about that night. That dreadful, horrible, unforgettable night. May 24, 2005. H agreed. I don't think there was anyone who identified with that song more than us. Heck, I doubt the writer identified with it any better!

We bought the "Beige" CD, so that we could have that song to play whenever the mood overtakes us. (Like today, for example.) Fantastic!

And I just want to say that I think everyone who has ever had a colicky baby should buy this CD. I laughed 'til the tears ran!

Great show!