There’s lots to catch up on, so I think I’ll just do a nice straightforward update…
I got a call from the pediatrician yesterday and her blood tests were negative: she doesn’t have coeliac disease. Part of me is relieved but… I said to the doctor, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m kind of disappointed…” He said he understood what I meant — that it would have been a bit of a relief to have a diagnosis, and especially for something so manageable as coeliac. But then he said, “We’re seeing E2 again in a few weeks. So don’t worry — we’ll get this sorted.” And that spoke to exactly what was most worrying me. I was so afraid that, if the tests came back negative, nothing more would be done and we would just be left hanging. Those simple words, “we’ll get this sorted,” made me feel so much better and I was so grateful to him for saying that.
He accepted it yesterday. They’d asked him to start too soon (the first week after New Year’s — how could we possibly do an international move with the whole of the UK shut down for Christmas week?), so he renegotiated and got them to agree to the end of January.
So that’s that. Done. Confirmed. We should be in the US by mid-January and he starts his job right after. I feel… numb.
I’ve tried various things, most especially waking her for a dreamfeed just before I go to bed. The first night, it worked really well. The next two nights, not so good. Bad, actually — spectacularly bad. Two nights where I never clocked up more than 2½ hours sleep in a row, and often only got an hour here and there. But… last night was completely different: I got her down at the unheard-of time of 9.30pm and — though she grumble-cried several times every few hours — she didn’t cry for me properly until 3.30am!!! I fed her until 4.30, then laid in bed fretting about the move for 30 minutes before sleep finally came to me. When I woke, it was 10.15. What a glorious night!!!
In truth, I have no idea why some nights are so very bad and some are good. There seems no rhyme or reason to it. Except for one thing that did occur to me last night: she had no toys in her cot. We had had complete nappy-failure that morning when I went in to get her up and everything was soaked, so I stripped the bed and bunged the lot — sheets, sleeping bag, and toys — in the wash. So there weren’t any of her usual crib-toys in bed with her last night and I wonder if that’s why her crying never really went above grumbling. If she half-wakes and moves about in an empty bed, it’s probably easier for her to succumb again to sleep than if she’s moving about in a bed full of things that start jingling when she bumps into them.
No toys in the bed again tonight. We’ll see how we go.
He got here and it was wonderful! E2 took to him like I’ve never seen her take to anyone in her life. She just sat happily on his lap and smiled and cooed at him for the best part of an hour. He cried — and it’s not often I see him do that — and said he was so glad, so glad, we are coming home. E1 was so excited that he was here she could hardly contain herself, and proceeded to run through her entire repertoire: jumping, falling, running, dancing, crunches, lunges, split squats (what can I say? She imitates what she sees), singing her ABCs, counting to 30, singing every nursery rhyme known to man… Dad was suitably impressed and delighted. And then, all too soon, it was over and he was back on the train and we were watching it pull away, me crying on the platform. These short visits are so joyful and so painful at the same time.