When Emory was first born, he had his days and nights mixed up. He slept soundly all day long and for stretches of several hours and then at 9 PM the long stretches came to an end. At night, he’d drift off and then wake up almost immediately. This left two very exhausted, new parents.
I can deal with getting little sleep. If I were to get 4 hours of sleep each night for a while, that’d be fine. It was the duration of time that eventually equalled those four hours that killed me. Fifteen minutes here and there does not a night’s rest make. And the lack of sleep added to my depression, which I felt pretty intensely back then.
So, we came up with shifts. I would take him from 9 PM until about 4 AM. TobyJoe would sleep on the couch. And then TobyJoe would take him at 4:00 AM until roughly 9 AM. This worked. I managed to get at least three solid hours a night. I still had to wake up every couple of hours to supply the food, but we each managed to sleep for longer stretches.
My shift started at 9 PM and while TobyJoe slept soundly in the living room I grumbled from our bedroom. I combed through Web site after Web site, stared off into space, and during some of my darker moments I wondered what I had done to my life. After a couple of days, I decided I simply had to get some sleep.
At some point during one of my Internet reading marathons, I learned that vibrating cribs can help ease a baby to sleep. Problem was, we never purchased one of these vibrating things. I still have no idea how this vibrating crib thing works. I read that some of them even make womb-like sounds.
On one particularly bad night, I hit rock bottom where depression was concerned. It was worse only due to how tired I was. I laid there begging, reasoning with Emory, “Please sleep, little one! Please let Mama sleep! Can you? Please?” And he’d whine and squeal. There was nothing I could do. I would rub his back, reassure him that I was still there and the repetitive motion would put me to sleep, while he squirmed and squealed. It was useless.
I thought about the vibration idea again. I began to lightly shake the crib. He calmed down. But I did as well. The vibration rocked me to sleep. Vibration stopped. He squealed again.
What to do?
A long, long time ago, TobyJoe and I spent a lot of money at a store called Toys In Babeland. (Sort of potentially not work safe). Every holiday, I would get a new toy. (Gentlemen, just because you happen to have the working parts to satisfy your lady, doesn’t mean that adding a prop or two into your love life is out of the question. Props do not take away from your masculinity, quite the opposite. The holiday season is coming up. Might I suggest you buy a little something for your lady?)
But I digress.
And you probably know where this is going.
I dug out the only battery operated, vibrating device I could think of, turned it on high, and put it right up at the top of Emory’s Pack ‘n Play. I fell asleep and so did he.
Later, when TobyJoe came into the bedroom to retrieve the baby, the device sat lifelessly in his crib.
“I got desperate.” I said answering no question at all.
“I can see that.”
“And not in the way one might assume when referring to one of these things.”
Part of NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), where one writes every day for the month of November, which is easier said than done.
Mihow 
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