Unfortunately, that one time a night persisted well into her sixth month until one fateful night when we decided to just let her cry it out.
AKA the night 'o horrible unspeakable tortourous mind numbing oh God please put it out of its misery hell.
There is no worse psychological torture on a mother than her baby screaming like someone just cut off its limb in the next room. The urge to just go in and make it stop using whatever means necessary is completely overwhelming. As she wailed I just rocked back and forth in my bed in the fetal position while I distracted myself from the noise by slowly peeling off my toenails one by one.
But that was all it took - after that night she has slept like a rock for at least 12 or 13 hours every night. But did I mention the psychological torture hell night?
I haven't quite fully recovered from that and my toenails have barely begun to grow back so Lila is still up once a night. And of course the middle of the night feeding is all me.
The rocker in their nursery is placed next to a low window, and this window is the reason I decided to keep them both in the smaller of the bedrooms vs. moving them into the more spacious room with higher windows.
The first few weeks of Ellie's life I hated the middle of the night feedings, for obvious reasons. Bleary eyed, I would sit in the rocker by the window looking out onto the dark, lifeless neighborhood illuminated only by fuzzy halos surrounding forgotten porch lights, feeling like I was the only person in the world who wasn't fast asleep.
But one night as I was rocking, trying to get a good look into my neighbor's living room window it occurred to me that there are thousands - tens of thousands - of people doing exactly what I'm doing right now.
So now I kind-of enjoy this time of night. I think of it as my secret society middle of the night meeting with all the other parents out there who are also rocking their beloved, looking out onto a lonely, sleepy world, feeling like the only person on Earth who is still awake.
Cheers to us.