Or arrived, I explained to him how to help Santi sleep. ¨Just lie next to him and keep telling him it is time to get to sleep. You can also sing a few songs. If he says ¨Mas luz, mas pasta, mas books, mas olla, chichi, or mas agua, just hold your line and repeat, Santi it is time to go to sleep. Don´t let him come out until 6:30 a.m. He will wake up and say ´mama, bebe, leche´and just hold the party line.¨
In a helpful, chipper, optimistic mood he accepted the challenge and helped navigate the nighttime rigmarole, not even minding that I had forgot to tell him he would be spending the night. He did not bring pajamas and lay down with Santi in his street clothes. I then moved Zadie into my room to do our nightly, and manageable newborn shuffle.
In the morning, when I heard Santi marching Or around the kitchen at 5:00 a.m. I went out and reminded him that Santi needed to sleep until 6:30 a.m. Or had lost some enthusiasm from the night before and seemed to be convinced, as so often happens, that Santi really needed to be up. They played for 90 minutes. I fed Zadie and slept some more. Or came in my room with Santi at 6:30 a.m. saying he needed to leave to go to work.
¨Amy, I decided last night I don´t want to have kids.¨ Or is 31-years-old. ¨I hardly got any sleep, always having one eye half open on Santi. And this morning, I realized how little patience I have. I started the morning like a mediation letting Santi guide me, but when I realized there was no game, no play, no role for me, I got bored. He just wanted to order me around. I watched myself lose my patience. ¨
I understood.
Monday night, I thought I had it made. The night nurse was supposed to be here at seven, Kelly left to move her son to her aunts for a few nights, and I falsely assumed the night would go smoothly.
I got Santi and Zadie vaccinated yesterday. There could be a whole post here on my mixed feelings about vaccinations. I will spare you. But I will say that I wish I hadn´t given Zadie the full treatment that the US Embassy recommends yesterday. It was seven shots delivered in three needles. She reacted terribly, strongly, horribly and I will space the rest out over a long period, dribbling them out one at a time on a delayed schedule like I did with Santi. Even the Colombian pediatrician I called when she was howling told me it had been too much.
Santi was asleep, Mary and I were on the phone, and Zadie kept waking in pain. I thought it was from the actual shots in her legs. When it did not stop, Mary and I got off the phone and the intensity of her wailing got worse. The night nurse was not here yet. If Santi woke up crying, needy, it would be too much for me.
The worst part of watching her writhe in pain was how her body arched, how she was stiff as a rock, her body seething with cortisol, and she was so upset she could not close her mouth to nurse. After thirty minutes, I felt scared. What will I do for real if Santi wakes up demanding attention? I don´t know my neighbors, ask the porteros to help. I called Or, no answer. I called Paula, no answer. I called Gloria, no answer. And I searched my brain. Who else knows Santi well enough to comfort him while I take care of Zadie if he wakes up. I called Carmen. She was just back form Italy the day before and still jetlagged. She thought I was calling to welcome her home.
I gave her the same frightened line, ¨Come immediately.¨ She heard Zadie wailing in the background and was here in five minutes.
We tagged teamed for 90 minutes she shhhed, rocked, walked, patted, and sang to Zadie. Santi did wake up and I put him back to sleep. ¨Bebe? Bebe?¨ he asked concerned. The night nurse arrived, Carmen and I gave Zadie a bath, something like infant Tylenol which I usually oppose, and she eventually slept straight through the night.
Belonging Matters 