Four Month Sleep Regression

It's been a few days since I've written, and I wish I had an exciting excuse as to why.

Really, it's just that I am so tired.

I've never been much of a sleeper. I don't sleep in; I secretly (or not so secretly, I guess) don't understand the appeal of snoozing the day away. At sleepovers growing up I was always the first one awake, laying there, bored, antsy, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my friends to get up.

Jason, on the other hand, needs his sleep. He'll sleep until late into the afternoon if he can. But if I have absolutely nothing on the agenda, even pre-Adelyn, I can't turn my mind off once it snaps awake at seven.

I don't think I realized just how crucial that sleep is, though. Until it's taken away from me. During the beginning of our parenting life I don't think I was sleeping more than thirty minutes at a time, but I was so wrapped up in the newness of everything I didn't let it get to me. I hardly remember it now. It's just a blur of shuuusssshhhing, rocking, swaddling and breast-feeding all hours of the night.

But then, like magic, Adelyn started sleeping with the same ease as her dad. The amazing pattern started when she was around one and a half months old. She'd go to bed at 7:30 or 8 and sleep solidly until 6:30, sometimes 7:30, a few times even until 8. And that lasted until, oh, last weekend.

Now, it's taking an hour or more to get her to fall asleep. The minute Jason and I shut her door she starts crying again, and I go immediately back in and try to comfort her. When that doesn't work I pick her up, and she immediately belches like a frat boy who overdosed on foamy keg beer. I don't know where this sudden, intense gas is coming from. Nothing else in her life has changed.

After several rounds of that, she'll finally pass out for good. And then she'll sleep until three a.m., sometimes four, usually five. It's gone from 8-7 to 10-3.

For the record, I'm not going to let her cry it out. I've let her cry--more like fuss--for a few minutes before, and it always leads to a choking, gag, GET-ME-THE-HELL-OUT-OF-HERE-sort of melt-down. For her and for me. And I don't understand how letting them cry it out will ever solve whatever's ailing them. It seems to me that it would just teach them that no one, not mommy or daddy, is coming to get them. And that thought breaks my still-hormonal heart.

And the thing is, since her nighttime sleep has gone AWOL, her daytime pattern has become infinitely better. There's very little crying during the day now. Just a lot of babbling and giggling and napping.

Jason is in Memphis for his bachelor party this weekend, so I'm going it alone. And I'm tired. It's six in the morning and Adelyn is finally back asleep (in her swing), and I'm sitting in the recliner, tired and defeated. There's no point in catching a few more zzzz's now.