There is absolutely nothing I dread more than C's 11:30 dose of propranalol. When you have to space out doses every 8 hours, there is really no way to avoid at least one of the three doses falling during a time when she is completely asleep.
C goes to bed at 7:30. Mommy then cleans, does laundry and dishes, takes out the trash, makes baby food, catches up on the dvr and watches the time tick by until 11:30. Every. Single. Night.
I've tried going to sleep and setting an alarm, but I continually slept through it, only to wake up in a panic around 2:00 a.m., realizing I had missed her dose yet again. So instead, my nightly ritual revolves around 11:30.
When 11:30 finally hits, I quietly creep into my daughter's room, adjust the dimmed light just enough to see the lines on the medicine dropper, and wake my soundly sleeping child by shooting bitter medicine into her mouth and quickly chasing it with a bottle. Now she is mad. She is tired. She is awake.
Twenty minutes later, I have finally gotten her back to sleep, desperately hoping she will return to the peaceful state in which I found her but knowing she probably won't. I get in bed and watch her toss and turn in her pink sleep sack until she remains still, and I wonder what it will be like one day when her hemangioma is gone and we can end this dreaded ritual.
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