Wake up every two hours from 11pm to 6am.
Joe and I decided to let him cry it out at 3:30am, but that lasted half an hour and I just got up to feed him. Then he woke up 2 hrs later at 6am and we decided to let him cry it out again. But that lasted 1hr and 15 minutes of pure agony and Joe got up to soothe him.
We all get frustrated. When we're young, it's not being able to ride a bike, or tie a shoelace. When we're in high school, it's not being able to get the guy we like to ask us out. And when we're adults, maybe it's getting the runaround from a potential new employer. But let me just say that if you haven't heard a baby's piercing cry down an empty echoing hallway for 75 minutes, you've never felt frustrated. It's the kind of frustration that knarls at your being. You find your teeth clenched, your shoulders stiff, your head about to explode. You wait during those silences in between cries, hoping that 3 seconds becomes an hour, but it never does and the crying begins again. And then you get to a point where you swear if you hear anymore, you're going to punch the wall or yell out profanities, or throw your spouse out the window just cause they're there. And then you can't take it anymore and you give in to a 4 month old and pick him up. And he smiles at you like nothing happened, so happy to see you.
He wins. We lose. The Battle, but hopefully not the War.
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