eight o'clock

Since you were two weeks old until just a week or two ago, you were extremely predictable. At exactly 8 o'clock p.m. pacific time, you would totally freak out. You relentlessly fussed, cried, punched the air, and otherwise lost your cool for about two hours each evening until you finally cried yourself to sleep. It was sort of funny to us, because from the moment you woke up until 8 pm, you could not have been happier, sweeter, and more contented with life. Until the Hour.

We tried everything to figure out what this was about. I stopped eating various foods in an attempt to see if you were having some kind of food reaction. We started routines to help you get tired and fall asleep easier in case you were just tired and not getting to bed early enough. We did tummy exercises in case you had swallowed too much air. We were stumped. And it was heartbreaking and exhausting to bounce, sway, sing, and console this poor, sad version of you when nothing helped.

Eventually, we just blamed the clock and made sure that we were well-rested and ready to do our best to make you feel comfortable and loved during this difficult time for you.

It's eight o'clock as I write this. We played toys until you were worn out, and you happily fell to sleep in my arms without a tear. You've outgrown 8 o'clock. I can't say I will miss the crying. But, I sort of got to enjoy the swaying, singing, cuddling, and holding that you don't need as much anymore. And it made watching you sigh in your sleep all the more peaceful.