Ian has his second cold. His cough is nasty and his spirits are good.
So good, in fact, that our evening started out like this:
We were so confident, we decided to put him to bed swaddleless (we had him down to one swaddle previously and he slept beautifully). Because of the cold, we decided to finally plug in the video monitor. After a normal nursing where he seemed passed out, we went in our room and Ian TV began.
He almost immediately started making a complete 180, found his toys, played with his bumper, and then he found the video camera.
We could not stop laughing and yes, it is a little Paranormal Activity creepy watching your baby son in night vision. He finally started to fuss after playing in his crib for about thirty minutes. So we decided to swaddle and nurse again. He fell asleep only to wake after a few minutes, this time royally pissed and coughing. We tried letting his arms out while keeping his lower body swaddled. We tried shushing. We tried rocking. We tried a bottle. We tried Motrin. No dice. Wide awake boy.
So Ian and I spent the night watching documentaries on HBO and co-slept a few hours here and there. I was blessed with daddy taking a shift at 7am so I could get a couple hours of hard sleep.
I know he’s sick but it is SCARY when the sleep plans shift so dramatically. I felt like we were back at the newborn stage, except my newborn is twenty pounds, rolls over at will and likes to claw the sisters while he feeds (owie). One moment at a time. Just to make the regression complete, he’s currently napping in the swing since I figured it would be easier for him to breathe and not cough if his head is elevated.
Now I am making lamb stew and hoping and praying I do not get sick. I’ve already started dosing myself with everything possible.