I probably look pretty funny. It's 5:00 a.m. I'm sitting up in bed railing at the baby, very very quietly. I grimace. I twist and writhe. I shake my fist at the ceiling. I shake my fist at him. I say shhh in an aggressive tone. He's much too busy screaming to notice.

Why am I losing it?

1. I'm tired.

2. David is not asleep because when he was almost asleep, I gently disengaged my nipple. It would have been much easier to just stay there and fall back asleep myself, but I am being "good." We are trying the "no cry sleep solution" by the book of the same name, and this is their number one technique. So I was "good," I did the right thing, and I got punished for it. That pisses me off.

3. I have to pee. If only I had been more patient, timed the popping better, not tried to rush things so I could get to the bathroom, this wouldn't have happened. I hate when I have caused my own misery.

4. Usually when something thoroughly wakes him in the middle of the night, we are up for the next two hours. I am dreading that.

5. If popping this time didn't work, it will never work. If it will never work, I will never get a full night's sleep. If I never get enough sleep, I will be miserable the rest of my short and futile life.

I get out of bed, bring the screaming back arching bundle of exhaustion downstairs, put him on the soft rug, and use the bathroom. Much to my shock, he gets quiet with me after that, and I think he had actually fallen asleep just sitting in my lap. Not quite. Back in bed I nurse him all the way down.