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    The evil that is the 6th week growth spurt

    Now that the shock has worn off, I feel like I can finally talk about the crying marathon that was the 6th week growth spurt.

    It hit a little early in our house.

    As soon as G turned 5w old and entered his 6th week of life he also entered a stage of what felt like non stop crying. We’re talking shrills. I knew he wasn’t hungry, or wet, or poopy, or in pain… but nothing I tried seemed to help. Pretty much if he was awake, but didn’t have a boob in his mouth, he was crying until his face turned beet red. You’d think I was torturing him.
    This was of course also paired with frequent eating (expected), which included many, many, middle-of-the-night wake-ups. That’s right, my cute little guy who previously woke up two, three times tops between 9pm and 7am, was now waking up at least four times. S and I had about resolved to sleep in the glider after 3am almost nightly. It felt like a lost cause to try and walk around the corner to our own bedroom.

    As bad as it was, we were getting through it. There was one day, however, that would probably be forever burned into my mind: the first. He was fussy all morning, which normally I could take in stride, but what set me off was spilled milk. Seriously! I had pumped and it was the first time ever that I had gotten 2oz in a session. I was excited… and then G started crying. I took him to his room to change his diaper, leaving the bottle of milk on my side table, still attached to the pump. We couldn’t have been gone more than 5 minutes. When I returned the bottle was gone. I looked under the side table and there it was turned upside down… empty. Of course G was still crying, there was now milk soaking the carpet, and nothing for me to freeze for later. Yeah, I was mad. And I snapped at my kid. I said in a loud and stern voice “G, I can’t help you because I don’t know what you want!” He stopped, looked at me perplexed at the tone of my voice… and then resumed with his crying spell. I don’t think I’d ever felt this bad in my life. I felt guilty. What was happening was obviously not his fault. He didn’t spill the milk; it’s not his fault his body is growing; that he was hungry and probably feeling growing pains. Although I apologized and followed up with kisses, all day I felt like a dog walking with his tail between his legs.

    The rest of the day continued with the loud crying. I was emotionally drained. A solocitor came to our door that afternoon and witnessed the “joy” that he was. I looked like the stereotypical overwhelmed mom: bathrobe, messed up hair, crying kid in arms. Of course G took the opportunity while she was going into her spiel to spit-up down my shirt. I don’t think I’d seen a solicitor go away as fast as she did. I giggled as I shut the door.

    S came home earlier that evening because of how bad the day had gone and I needed some relief. We went out for dinner with A & B that night, and even they exclaimed how “not good” I looked. At least for them I looked remotely descent by managing to change clothes and brush my hair.

    S’ parents arrived in the middle of this growth spurt period. S’ mom, who has taken care of a badly refluxed kid (our niece, sadly) just went through deja-vu. We’re pretty sure it’s not reflux, so we just needed to bear it and get through. For awhile, she was bouncing a very fussy kid. A typical moment in her (and our arms) looked like this:

    What kept us going was knowing that there would be a light at the end of the tunnel… and there was! When all was said and done G emerged almost like a brand new kid. He’s awake a lot more now. Awake, alert and quiet (well, quiet-er)! He smiles a bit more, looks around, and is much more engaging with his toys.

    He’s now 8lb 8.7oz and about 20.5” in height. He’s outgrown a fair amount of his NB-sized onesies and I’ve pulled out the next step up. Now that he’s more peaceful and in a better mood, I even scheduled a photo session to take his newborn photos. I’m really excited!

    So, yeah! This was the tale of our last week – one of the reasons, why you didn’t hear much from us for a bit. With all this, I gotta say, I am not looking forward to teeth coming in. I’ve heard that some bourbon (or hard liquor of choice) on their gums might help, but I think I’ll be taking a few swigs of it at that point.

    6 responses to “The evil that is the 6th week growth spurt”

    1. EmWed says:

      Oh yikes. sorry to hear you had a tough week. 🙁

      Yeah, I think that liquor taken internally by mommy sounds like a good idea, LOL

    2. Kirsten says:

      Sorry you had such a bad week! I am glad that he has moved through that. There can’t be anything more frustrating than not being able to soothe your baby for that long.

    3. Will Hutchinson says:

      Congrats at all three of you for making it through! Can’t imagine how difficult it was (at least not until I have one of my own), but that part is done at least and you survived! 🙂

    4. rebecca says:

      I found your blog through the nest. What really helped my daughter was putting her in the front carrier and bouncing on the exercise ball. No matter how hard of a day she was having this always calmed her down and many times she fell asleep. The first 8 weeks are the toughest. Hang in there. : )

    5. avalikelava says:

      Oh yeah, I’ve done the Moby with the exercise ball. We’re well familiar with the bounce 🙂

    6. alison says:

      If it helps, even on that “bad” day you looked good… just v v v unhappy and tired.

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