When Brad and I lived in Dallas, our Saturday nights looked quite different than they do here in Louisiana, especially since our favorite day of 1-13-15. Now yes, we were still dating and then engaged during our Dallas days, (and the woo'ing factor was OUT OF CONTROL on Brad's part...) - So yes, it was fancy dinners, a new wine bar, concerts, dinners with other childless couples, or hanging out late until the wee hours of the night just talking with Brad! Boy, while dating we could chat. About EVERYTHING... We would look up and it would be 2-3 am, we will still be chatting and having that last glass of vino. (AND boy was that DUMB. No one should be having a glass of Pinot Grigio at 3:00 am. No.one.ever.)
Fast forward two years.... Here we are in Louisiana, and my my how everything has changed!
So last Saturday night, the hubs and I bathed and fed Ledger, and then put him down around 8:00pm. He had been happy as a clam all day long, so I knew it: This was the night. THE NIGHT that he would sleep all night long. I had a really good feeling about it......
And then Brad and I climbed into bed, put on a Dateline, and were both passed out by 9:35. Like I said... Times have changed.
Around 10:15, we hear blood curling screams from the dreaded monitor. ("You have got to be kidding me" - I may have thought selfishly to myself), but then the panic started to set in. My child does not scream. Whimper, the pathetic half-cry for food and attention - yes, but 'cut your right arm off scream' - not at all.
So Brad and I sprinted up the dreaded twenty stairs and busted into the nursery. Ledger was still screaming.... Well, he must be hungry we thought! Brad brought up a bottle and Ledger wanted NOTHING to do with it. AND this kid is a Hodges and a Wainscott: He loves to EAT. So over his screams and me holding him, Brad and I discovered that he has not pooped all day. Well, crap. Literally..... That was "THE" problem. His stomach was as hard as a rock.... I will spare you ALL the details, but for the next four long, excruciating hours, this is what we dealt with. It was heart breaking to see him in so much pain. I was a basket case, so thank God for my chill, never in a tizzy husband. I mean, trying to get a 3 month old to POOP is quite a task.
So we alternated prune juice, pear juice, warm baths, gas drops, me holding him, Brad holding him, frantic midnight calls to Mom, but there was NOTHING we could do but wait it out. He finally passed out, and Brad and I got about 45 minutes of sleep. At 2:30, he was crying and I told Brad to sleep and I would take this one. I opened his door in the hopes of smelling something horrendously rank (I know - What has my life become), but nothing! Just one hungry and exhausted baby..... Ledger pounded 9 oz. He was starving.
We are well hydrated at the Wainscott household....
So, 20 minutes later I groggily tread BACK down the stairs and climbed into bed. Brad said he would do the next one, SOOOOOOO I gladly moved the monitor to his side of the bed, happily inserted my ear plugs and drifted off to sleep dreaming about sleep, fancy dinners and wine....
At 5:30, I felt Brad climb out of bed and I sure did play possum. Dead... It was his turn! Fast forward an HOUR later.... Brad comes trudging into the bedroom. I felt him get into bed and asked "What happened? Why did that take so long?"
IT HAD HAPPENED... Yes, that IT!
All over the chair, his pajamas, a burp cloth, and all over Brad... Little did I know Brad had to jump into the shower upstairs and start a HUGE load of laundry. It was BAD...
Poor guy. I felt sorry for him for about a minute, but then we both drifted off to dreamland.
So after that horrendous night, we took turns napping all day Sunday. Didn't make it to church because Ledger can't drive and I don't think Brad nor I could have driven there in the state of exhaustion we were in.
Yes, this would be Sunday afternoon. Brad is dead asleep here....
L is like, "What's your problem Dad, I feel great!"
So, as you can see, we are a far cry from our "old" Saturday night outings, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, maybe without the constipation and screaming.
Moral of the Story: When baby is constipated, always take the FIRST feeding...
Have a great Friday!
Love,
~H
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