she sleeps on me.

right from the word go, it’s been clear that Posey’s a snuggler, a natural bambino-in-arms. she burrows into chests and armpits with an instinctive fetal curl, an irrestibly tiny, hot package for whom human contact is a kind of morphine, a failsafe stupor-inducing comfort.

i am a sucker. Posey’s nuzzliness has charmed me to bits, in part because at two-and-a-half the affectionate but independent Oscar is still only learning to cuddle. my futile efforts to comfort him in his colicky infancy left me feeling inadequate and useless and, uh, desperate. thus my discovery of Little Miss Snugglebug’s penchant for getting cozy and peaceful when i held her flattered the ass off me. this child i can actually quiet please! worship my mothering skillz!

of course, turns out there’s a rub to this little trick. it’s not that Posey won’t sleep in her cute little cosleeper for long…no shit, Sherlock, i kinda figured i was getting in for that, i was game to reap the whirlwind…it’s that i can’t sleep through her sleeping.

every night for the two hours before dawn my child grunts like a barnful of pigs.

she gurgles and bellows three inches from my ears, her sonata of snorts punctuated only by occasional earsplitting shouts. it’s not hunger…she’s usually fed and been well and thoroughly burped only an hour or so before. and it doesn’t bother her much, as she sleeps through it – even the crying out, for the most part – so long as she’s held just right. but i cannot sleep through it, because a) she sounds like a motorcycle gang and b) i have to sit up in order to get her comfortable. her father also cannot sleep through it, because a) he’s only inches away and b) i tend to whack him awake whilst muttering curses under my breath because hell, i’ve only just gotten back to sleep and my frustration needs SOME outlet, after all. she hasn’t woken Oscar very often, admittedly – though the fact that she HAS, with no adjoining wall and two closed doors between them attests to the volume of her grunt sessions – but by the time her vocalizations have achieved their objective and gotten her diaper filled and she’s dropped back into gentle chest-snuggling sleepiness, it’s time for Oscar to wake up.

thus, there is not enough sleep going on here, folks. for me. and Dave too…but most – and oh so pitifully, i assure you, because Bon on no sleep is an ugly, ugly beast – me.

she has reflux, which medication appears to be taking care of. she also has tendencies towards loudness in whatever she does, and we affirm that around here. she’s not constipated, just voluminous, and possessed of unfortunate timing.

she’s five weeks old, and she delights me. and i have to admit i love having her little body resting beside me…love the sound of her breath, the flutter of her small hands as they inevitably break free from the swaddle. even in the dark of five am, i catch the shadowy contours of her small face and am grateful. but tired. i’m wearing thin. so…anybody have any wonderful tips which will restore beauty sleep to our little family? i tried prune juice (uh, for Posey, not me…but it just made the product of her grunting all the more watery) and i tried earplugs (pointless, due to the proximity of the noise source and the fact that she’s five weeks old and i’m not comfortable with the possibility of her being awake and miserable and alone). anybody got any other bright ideas?

and more seriously, since i don’t think Oscar’s ever slept on me for more than five minutes in his entire life, any voice-of-experience stories about the wisdom or lack thereof of letting her sleep in our arms in the first place?