The witching hour is back. What appeared to be an improvement with Zantac has disappeared. At this moment she is screaming in her crib while I take a momentary break to keep my sanity. She is hoarse from crying most of the afternoon. She did sleep a lot this morning and a bit this afternoon (interspersed with crying). She fights her sleep. I try to make sure not to keep her awake too long between sleep sessions: she wakes hungry, she gets fed, changed, played with a very short time, and as soon as she shows drowsy signs, I try to soothe her. It worked a little earlier in the afternoon, though she would not sleep in her crib alone more than 30-40 minutes. However, as the afternoon progressed the crying increased. She thrashes in my arms whether swaddled or not. She does not respond to soft humming or soft or loud shushing sound. She will calm momentarily and start to drift into sleep and then become alert and start crying, screaming, and thrashing while in my arms. If my friend had not come over to visit today and spell me a little while I think I’d be screaming and thrashing right now too.

It’s manifestly clear that she’s exhausted. She’s fed, clean, dry, held lovingly. She is not ill. I’m helpless. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her get sleep. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m alienated. I’m having a hard time focusing on empathy for her and letting go of my ego-driven desire to have a child who is more convenient and less a mystery. Less challenging. Less difficult. I’m having difficulty keeping her company whatever she is going through. In this moment I do not want this relationship, this job, this vocation of mothering and motherhood. I’m insecure and scared and have standards I can’t live up to. And I plain don’t like being helpless and ignorant and watching someone I love suffer.

I’m going to leave comments open, but please, no advice, or suggestions that start with Have you tried….

I think I need help. I need extra hands and arms and someone who has experience being a parent. I’m going to talk with Husband about asking his mother to come back. She’s coming for Christmas December 20-30, and I feel like asking more is an imposition and also a sign that at 44 I still can’t fucking handle responsibility, and am shying away from being a grown-up, and that I had no business procreating. And oh my, this is my life now, and the rest of my life.