Up All Night

Monday, which seems like six weeks ago, we took Jaxon to his first pediatrician visit, as required 48 hours after babies are discharged. The only appointment that we could get was at a clinic on the other side of town. He checked out fine, unlike his parents – who are exhausted.

I recall cramming for tests, studying all night to learn as much as I could. It seems silly now to think that cramming works, although some procrastinators swear by it. The older I get, the more I realize that if I don’t get enough rest I typically loose the ability to think coherently. One important thing about cramming, you stop it after you take the test. You can sleep.

To be honest, I though taking care of a newborn was like cramming. You take the test of delivery and those first few days of acclimation at home. You explain the situation to Jax, you and the baby will come to some sort of deal. Solid, uninterrupted sleep would be great for everyone. I assume that we could negotiate. Infants, surprisingly, do not negotiate.

The surprising thing about babies is their almost universal ability to activate the cry sound bombardment. One would think that a preemie newborn would have the cry of newborn kitten – barely audible but adorable. Oh no, not Jaxon. His cry is so loud, so unrelenting. Now, even when I can sleep, it follows me into my dreams.

The memory of this sort of sleep is like the memory of your five-year-old’s birthday. At most, it’s some vague set of images that don’t make sense. It may be a cake, a room, other toddler. That’s kind of like each of our days without consistent sleep. It explains why I resorted to singing New Jack Swing era songs to get him to sleep. What baby can withstand the almost 10 minute version of Tony! Toni! Toné! “Anniversary”? None, that’s who. That said, the fatigue caused me to place Jaxon’s diaper on backward earlier this week. No doubt, Lara let me know this and will hold it over my head for the rest of my life. I mean, I would. Naturally, Jaxon showed his disapproval by peeing on the window.

Most of the books Lara and I read (Lara actually read the books, I just looked at the pictures) focused on the things that happen in a normal pregnancy (which we didn’t have) and a normal delivery (which did not happen). Few give any honest depiction of what happens to you after you bring home your newborn. The baby is the boss. An angry boss with a pee stream that has the same intensity and distance as a lawn sprinkler. With poop that explodes from his tiny butt like illegal fireworks. A person who eats at random times, twenty times a day and doesn’t say excuse me when spits up on your face. A person who yells incoherently when you do both the right and the wrong things.

That said, we love this belligerent old man so much so that we placed him in a straight jacket, also known as a swaddle:

One early talent that Jaxon has is the ability to escape from any swaddle. Eventually, he even escaped from the Ollie, which is a legitimate straight jacket. We have tried holding down his arms, adjusting the wraps – it doesn’t work. Thanks and don’t report us to family services.