Something was wrong last night.

I've not yet discovered anything I can't eat because it makes William upset, but I'm seriously searching yesterday's menu for anything that I might not have had since becoming a milk bar (potential culprits: pistachios and turkey) because last night...

We got William to bed around 11:30 after a full day of Christmas festivities. Two full turkey dinners, one with seventeen people and FOUR varieties of christmas puddings, one with eleven people and 'only' one massive pud. Lots of presents, lots of love, lots of laughter. He'd been more and more unsettled throughout the evening - we thought it was probably just overstimulation, and he fell asleep pretty easily immediately after his bath.

At one am, William started to squawk. I hadn't really fallen asleep yet so I decided to feed him straight away rather than waiting for him to get more serious, so I got up to go to the toilet before picking him up. My feet didn't even make it to the floor before he started *screaming*.

I've never, not once, heard him cry like that. I'm sure it was louder than I've ever heard him cry - and he didn't reach the distraught long pauses for breath in between each cry stage, either, which he generally only does if he thinks he's being ignored - each scream was coming out at full-throated volume straight after the previous one. And all the while he was choking on his own saliva, rattling as it got into his nose, and wailing like his world was ending.

I tried him over my shoulder. He wailed. I tried drawing his legs up to his chest. He wailed. I gave him a finger to suck and he was too distressed to do anything but choke on his own attempts to get away from it. I rocked him, sang to him, put on Tchaikovsky's first piano concerto (always a favourite), put on the dryer for some soothing white noise, laid him across my knees, sat him up, and tried everything again and again. He wailed. Every now and then one thing or another would result in a minute or so's relative calm, or manage to expell some lower wind. As soon as it seemed clear there was no more wind coming (and thus it was safe to lay him on the change mat) I changed his nappy, which made him scream even more, but after the new nappy was on and the dirt he'd expelled earlier on was away from his sore bottom, the wailing began to taper. Five or ten minutes later he was calm enough to suck, so I fed him and he fell asleep fairly quickly, without having drunk much at all. The whole process took probably an hour. I have absolutely no idea how people deal with hour upon hour of screaming - I guess you've got no choice.

Hubby slept through it all without even stirring.

Five am, William woke up just the same, but there was nothing in the nappy this time and no contributions towards filling it. The rattle in his nose was worse, and it seemed like the main reason he didn't want to suck, which would usually comfort him, was that it would mean he couldn't breathe. Hubby woke up, so I handed him over and tried to get some more sleep - but even at the other end of the house, and knowing Hubby had him, there was no way I could ignore him. After fifteen minutes I decided he was really hurting, it wasn't something that could just needed comfort, and pulled out the infant panadol for the first time. I sorted out the dosage and gave it to him.

Relief was almost instantaneous. It must have been the placebo affect that caused the results within a few seconds - or perhaps just the distraction of the strange taste in William's mouth - but he had definitely tapered off to occasional sobs within five minutes, and within fifteen he was happily feeding. Not just consoling himself with sucking while he quietly moaned, but staring up at me and making soft happy noises. Half an hour later, it was time to go back to bed - but he was wide awake. He kept smiling and drinking me in with wondering wide eyes: You're so clever, Mummy! You can make anything better!

Yeah. We went to bed together, with me cuddling his little warm swaddled bundle chest to chest, since he was too awake to go back in his cot and I was too tired to spend half an hour unsuccessfully trying to put him back to sleep then end up bringing him to bed with me anyway. I fell asleep before him; every time I'd sleepily open my eyes to see if he was drowsy enough for me to put him back in his own bed, he was still staring up at my face, transfixed in wonder.

I don't know when he eventually fell asleep, but he slept through until midday and woke up bubbly and content.

Hurrah for panadol.