flashbacks of infanthood

Our last couple of nights have been...eventful. Jude is still running a fever (though we're able to keep in under control with a steady diet of medicine) and is definitely still feeling the effects of this sickness. We took him to the doctor yesterday, and were told that it's definitely something viral. The doctor said he could tell there was some inflammation of his throat, and threw out all sorts of things this sickness could be - including mono. The thought that it could be mono had actually crossed my mind since Jude was acting a lot like I felt when I got it in college, and I thought it was strange that I wouldn't have gotten whatever Jude has by now.

Anyway, so Jude's not been sleeping or playing very well, though he is steadily getting better with each day. The worst part of this sickness is the screaming jags it seems to cause. And this isn't just, "I'm not happy, poor pitiful me," screaming. It's 'did-my-child-swallow-a-demon?!' screaming. Seriously, Jude is hoarse today from all the screaming he did last night. It is at the top of his lungs, guttural, and lasts for forty-five minutes up to two hours. Straight. No stopping.

These screaming fits aren't fun in the middle of the day, but they're torture at night. He refuses to be held, but screams harder when you put him down. He doesn't want to eat or drink, and changing his diaper does nothing. No amount of speaking softly and soothingly or firmly and strongly changes his disposition. You just have to wait until he exhausts himself, and try not to have a nervous breakdown in the process.

Shawn and I put him down for his normal bed time last night, and waited anxiously to see if he'd wake back up. He did. He screamed. On and off for about an hour and fifteen minutes. Just when we thought he was going down, he started up again with a vengence. We went to bed last night fairly certain we were going to be up in the middle of the night, and thinking we heard baby cries in every blow of the wind or creak of the door. Jude did end up waking up around 1:30 and screaming until 3:00, during which Shawn and I took turns trying to pacify. He finally went down between 3:00 and 3:30 and slept until 8:50 this morning, which was a blessing straight from heaven. Last night was definitely the best of the three rough nights we've had, but it was also the worst because Shawn and I were trying to handle it with two previous nights' lack of sleep.

Today has been significantly better, and while Jude has had a couple of screaming jags, they're only lasting half an hour and he's having far fewer. Throughout the evening yesterday, Shawn and I kept saying how much all of this reminded us of when Jude was an infant, and I realized something kind of earth shattering (to me, anyway) today.

I wasn't crazy.

With (relatively) balanced hormones and quite a bit more perspective, I'm able to look at this disposition of Jude's and wonder how I handled it even as well as I did. You would have to have nerves of steel to handle that kind of crying for several hours every night without knowing the cause or remedy. I'm able to look back on my postpartum self, and say, "You actually did really well, and I'm kind of amazed at your strength and patience. How did you handle that every night for five months?! You amaze me, postpartum Jen - I didn't know you had it in you."

So this whole sickness has me looking back on those months with fresh eyes that no longer see a weak, emotional, exhausted and unworthy Jen. I see a Jen who is stronger than I knew, whose love proved to be unconditional, and who handled herself with tenacity and perseverance every night.

I'm praying we've weathered the worst of this sickness - it's nice to see glimpses of Jude's happy self. And while I'm at it, I'm praying our next son 1) Doesn't have reflux, 2) Is able to eat at night and then fall back to sleep peacefully, and 3) Sleeps through the night by the time he's 4 weeks old.

I know my third prayer might be stretching it a bit, but hey - just making sure God knows how much I'd like that.