Sad baby

Zoë's croup seems to be on the way out, thank goodness. We've had some rough nights around here. On Sunday I think I spent as much time sitting outside in the cold night air with Zoë as I did sleeping.

Lucky for us, that was the night of the supermoon—largest full moon since 1948!

Unlucky for us, it rained all night long so we didn't even catch a glimpse of the moon.

Thanks, November.

Monday night was better than Sunday but it was still pretty bad. After I managed to get Zoë down, I gave Andrew a haircut, and then he went to have a shower while I sat down to write for a little while. Soon I heard a tiny, hoarse voice squeak out, "Mama! Mama! Mama!"

"She'll go back to sleep," I told myself.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" that pathetic little voice cried again.

But she hadn't come to find me (when she's serious about needing me she'll get out of bed to look for me) so I told myself there was a chance she would still put herself back to sleep. But then she called for me again.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!"

I opened the bedroom door to peek in at her. She wasn't in our bed (sometimes she is).

I walked into the bedroom. She wasn't on the floor (sometimes she is).

I peeked into her bed. She wasn't there either (occasionally she can be found there).


The bathroom door was ajar, so I decided to look in there, too, and there was Zoë, leaning against the shower door with her face all smushed up against the glass.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" she begged.

"I'm right here, baby!" I said from behind her.

"What?" Andrew called from the shower.

By this time Zoë had stumbled over to me, a big mess of tears and snot, wheezing so badly she could hardly breathe. She quickly wiped her face all over my shirt and held onto me as tightly as she could.

"Didn't you hear the baby?!" I asked him.

"Well, yeah," he said. "But there wasn't anything I could do about it. I'm in the shower."

"Honey," I said. "She was leaning right against the shower door..."

"SHE WAS?!" he asked. "No way! I heard her crying but it was so quiet I thought she must have gone out to find you."

"She must have thought I was the one in the shower," I said and then asked Zoë if she wanted to have a shower. She said she did and started getting out of her pyjamas. She was rather upset when I handed her to Andrew; she didn't want to shower with him and she tried to let us know that but...the poor girl has no voice so she ended up sending herself into another wheezing fit.

"Crying only makes it harder to breathe," I reminded her. "You'll be fine with Daddy."

She is such a momma's girl, but she survived her shower with Daddy. The steam helped her breathe a little easier and we eventually got her back down to sleep. We fished the humidifier out and that seemed to help her last night. I'm crossing my fingers tonight will go better.

While it's true that she's figured out bedtime, I'm paying for it on the other end because she seems to have given up her afternoon nap (side story: my friend dropped by the other day and was trying to decide her schedule based on her baby's nap schedule (her baby who is older than Zoë) and mentioned that sometimes [baby] takes two naps a day still and I was like...what?!?!). Oh, and she's still not sleeping through the night.

I was really hoping the LullaDoll would make a difference in consecutive sleeping hours...but it's really yet to be tested because she woke up with croup the first night we put her to sleep with it. That said, she still seems to love it. When she climbs into our bed she brings it with her and when I put her down tonight she asked me to turn it on for her. So, at least she's liking it.