1.00am and I awake to the unfamiliar sound of Elliott moaning from his bedroom. I lie listening for a few minutes, waiting for him to go back to sleep as usual.
1.10am and Elliott still making unhappy noises. Getting more persistent now. I get up, and go into his bedroom. He stares unhappily up at me, and I get him out of bed to give him a quick feed. Maybe he's hungry, he went to sleep at 6.30pm last night and it's not characteristic for him to wake through the night. If ever I do feed Elliott through the night, he goes back down without any fuss and I don't hear from him til morning. This time, I place him back into bed, tuck him in firmly and go back to my own room.
1.50am and there are noises emanating from Elliott's room again. I lay listening again for a while. Noises getting louder, steadily progressive into full-blown crying. What the?
2.00am and I feed Elliott on the other side (yes, I've thrown the book out the window) to try to settle him. He's not really interested and I nervously place him back into bed. I give him his Flatout bear. I pat him on the chest and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. I kiss him and tell him I love him and its time to go to sleep. Normally works every time.
2.15am and Elliott shrieking. I bring him into bed with us. What is going on? For the first time in Elliott's life I seriously worry that he will wake up Fern (it is normally the other way around!) He's never slept with us before, so this is a desperate measure for me to take. I lie him down between us. The crying gets louder. We pick him up. Rock him. Lie him back down. Pat his tummy. Nothing nothing nothing.
2.30am and Dan and I are growling at one another, there was nothing in our marriage vows about playing-nice at 2.30am when weve been awake for an hour-and-a-half with a screaming baby. We have no idea what to do. Elliott does not do this, he doesn't have a temperature. He's not hungry. He's warm.
And he hasn't done a poo in days.
My poor baby does not seem to be coping digestively well with the introduction of solids. He's onto three meals a day now, made primarily of pureed vegetables and some fruit and his little body does not seem to be able to keep up with taking out the garbage, so to speak.
|Does this look a child capable of causing any grief?!|
Dan desperately blows raspberries onto Elliott's tummy, making him laugh while I google "constipation". Prune juice might help, they say. Prune juice? Am I really going to have to make a trip out to Coles at 2.30am to buy prune juice??
Elliott is now past the point of tired. Laughter turns into hysteria, and I have never seen him so upset in the entire six months he has been alive. The miracle is, Fern is somehow still asleep though I have serious doubts about the rest of the street. I go down the medicine chest to grab the baby panadol, to try to alleviate the tummy pain. When I come back, Dan is slowly pacing the bedroom with Elliott limp in his arms. He's fallen asleep, little body heavy and arms flailing out to the sides...
We carry him slowly back to bed and tuck him back in.
8.15am I awake to Elliott talking to himself and sunlight streaming through the window. Sunlight? Normally I awake to darkness and the sound of Fern demanding milk. My daughter has just pulled a 13.5 hour sleep and I can hear her talking softly to herself. And Elliott? He's happily playing with his soft toys, like nothing ever happened.
I get up, make a double-shot-flat-white while Dan throws himself in the shower. Alarm clocks have not been necessary for over 2 years at our place, but this morning he is going to be late for work! He leaves the house without time for breakfast, and I wearily take the two kids out to the kitchen. I test an unproven theory of mine about the merits of pre-packaged baby food and spoon some apple & mango puree I have stored in the cupboard for emergencies into Elliott's bowl.
Half an hour later I take him into his room and place him on the change table. Sure enough. 3 or 4 days of backlog, cocooned in one nappy. He's smiling.
I place him back into bed. He goes to sleep immediately and he's still there now, slumbering peacefully away as I type. Meanwhile, I'm a sleep deprived wreck! I'd forgotten how awful it feels...
I'm not sure why I'm sharing this. To rationalise it in my own head, perhaps? Have any of you had this happen to your babies? Do you have a proven remedy to get the digestive system back on track? Is prune juice a myth or does it really work? Please share, because I don't think I can go through another night like last night, and it makes me ill to think of my baby suffering...