I was beginning to think I got lucky.
At Duncan’s 12-month well child checkup yesterday, the pediatrician looked in his mouth and found a top molar starting to poke through. After we got home, I did a Mommy tooth check and found a pointy thing on the top on the other side.
I was amazed. We knew nothing about these molars. Were they coming through quickly and easily with no fuss or bother? Let alone screaming and many interrupeted nights of sleep – could it be?
A week before his 1st birthday, Duncan decided to get 3 teeth at once – a bottom incisor and 2 molars. It wasn’t fun. There was a lot of Tylenol administered, for everyone in the house.
But, slowly, painfully, they emerged and sleep was to be had again.
Not so much right now. There was no afternoon nap, just blood-curdling screams (and also no work done by Mummy). So bedtime came early. And appeared to go OK. Except that since 6:30 p.m. I have put him back to bed 3 or 4 times. I’m already losing track.
When Duncan is teething, he loves to nurse. He’d nurse 24 hours a day if possible. Except he nurses at arm’s length, stretching my nipple as far as possible and rubbing it against his teeth. Ouch. 4 times a day I maybe be able to handle that. 12,000 times and it’s a little rough.
Having a child has renewed my need for prayer lately. “Please, God, let him stay asleep this time. Please, God, help him stop clinging to me and screaming. Please, God, help me breathe and stay centered.”
Poor baby. Can’t be fun for him – all these teeth emerging and no words to explain how he feels. He’s probably saying his own prayers.