Milk, night terrors or something else

There are times when I can't tell what's the right thing to do. Like just now. Ivan woke up screaming unconsolably, like he occasionally does. I know that a bottle of milk will instantaneously calm him down. But is that the right thing to do?

The pediatrician and all those baby books recommend to let the child cry it out and learn to soothe himself on his own. The longer the parent intervenes the longer the whole cycle gets prolonged. But letting the baby cry it out, while he's convulsing in pain and is violently shaking to break free from my embrace (which is another no, no as well--don't pick the child up because he'll learn to rely on you for soothing and falling back asleep) is beyond gut wrenching.

And then I feel like a bad, no horrendous, heartless, mean mom. Especially after Ivan's been crying for a while--probably less than 5 minutes, which to us seem like an eternity.

And then Andy--who's heard my spiel a hundred times and in all rational moments agrees with me--goes to picks up Ivan, embraces him, carries him back and forth, calms him and soothes him, while I'm standing defeated (on my way to giving in even before Andy gets to Ivan) on top of the stairs with a jug of milk in my hand on my way to refill the bottle.

I tried water in the bottle already, but got the bottle thrown in rejection out of the crib. This time I mix it: half milk and half water. It's my secret plan to slowly wean him off the milk toward the water. So if the bottle is so important at least his teeth won't be rotten out by the age of four. The fear of rotten teeth that the pediatrician installed in me.

And then after Ivan's calmed with the bottle, Andy says on his way back to bed: "there is no reason for the baby to suffer like that." Like I don't know that.

So I remain torn, week after week of this occasional nightly occurrence. Which one is it--give in and give a bottle or savagely let him cry it out?

The fact that I feel underminded by Andy and my parents on every "bottle" turn doesn't help. I try to remain strong and see this battle through--wean him of the bottle and off falling a sleep with milk--but they succumb right way.

Maybe succumb is not the right word, they just don't see it as a big problem as a big deal.

For my parents, in their time this probably wasn't an issue.

And Andy, unlike me, has not spent countless hours reading about this, talking to other moms, being chewed out by the pediatrician.

P.S. My parents did put me to bed with a bottle. A ritual I was addicted to until I was quite old and vividly remember both needing to fall asleep and being ridiculed by their friend, a mom of two boys my age. But instead of milk, my mom gave me camomile tea. So at least no rotting teeth there. But when I asked her, when did I drink milk, she couldn't recall. Who knows, I probably stopped drinking milk quite early, because I do remember disliking milk even back in my childhood, just I don't like it today.