On Our Way To Crazy

One of the biggest challenges of this baby situation is the sleeping. Hers, mine, Aaron’s. And by sleep, I mean, of course, NOT SLEEPING. Because none of us have really spent many hours doing it. Not in a row, anyway.

About a month ago we decided to get serious about sleep. We had moved her into her crib a few weeks prior, but it took both of us a lot of time to get her to actually fall asleep in there. Shushing, rocking, singing. Replacing the blanket over and over after she kicked it off. Trying to keep her from flipping over because if she flips over then she gets on her hands and knees and then she gets stuck and screams or propels herself forward and hits her head and screams and oh my gosh the screaming it never ends help me help me help me.

Because I can’t do anything without reading about every possible option available to me, I started researching sleep training methods. There are about ten million of them so it was a pretty simple task. No-Cry, Baby Whisperer, Sleep Lady, eight thousand doctors who will tell you exactly what to do if you’ll just buy their book. I had no idea where to start.

The facts were these: Campbell had stopped falling asleep after nursing, which had been my go-to method; she has never really cuddled or snuggled in any way, so rocking just served to make her mad; if we were interacting with her at all she thought it was playtime; all she wanted to do in the crib was roll around and try to crawl.

I was terrified of the ‘cry-it-out’ method, having read a bit about it having long-term emotional effects on babies. We wanted her to trust that we would not abandon her when she needed us, right? Right. I took it off the table.

But nothing else worked. NOTHING. So one night, out of desperation, we gave it a shot.

It works like this: you do your regular bedtime routine, then put the baby in the crib. Leave the room. If they cry, let them for three minutes before going back in. (The book says not to pick them up during this time but we do. You gotta make things work for you.) After you comfort them, leave again and don’t go back until they’ve cried for five minutes. Then ten minutes, and it stays at ten minutes from then on until they fall asleep.

You guys. YOU GUYS. We’ve been doing this for two weeks and have never once made it to the first ten minute stretch. Only rarely do we make it to the five minute one. We’ve gone from a 45-minute dramafest at bedtime to a baby who is out for the night within three minutes.

Turns out we were holding her back. When she would get up on her hands and knees and get frustrated, we would flip her back over and try to get her to lay still. But left to her own devices, that frustration finds its way out through rolling and kicking and flipping and fussing. Then, after a few minutes of fussing, sleep. GLORIOUS SLEEP.

We don’t quite have sleeping through the night going on, but we’re close. She wakes up once after several hours instead of every two. We’re down to one overnight feeding. Everyone is feeling a little better.

I think we might survive.

It’s gotten funny at naptime the past few days. Her latest skill is going from crawling position to sitting up, and somehow she’s learned to do that during the falling asleep process. So, often, I check the monitor to find this:

And then walk in to find this:

Y’ALL. She is full-on asleep in these pictures.

WHAT IS HAPPENING.

But I’m not complaining. I just sneak in and move her little body a tiny bit and she’s good. AND SLEEPING.

It was traumatic, at least for your dad and me. You were mostly unfazed. After the initial shock (and two hour screamfest), we got some medicine in you, gave you a bath and put you down for a nap, and when you woke up you were the same happy baby you always are. Just covered in red spots and giant blisters. So far things are healing well and you are looking better. It remains to be seen if there will be any long-term effects, but we are hopeful and you are happy and it could have been so much worse. So we are thankful.

But! Enough about the noodles! Outside of The Incident, month seven has been pretty great. You are trying SO HARD to crawl. Your body is full of pent-up energy and if I could move your little arms and legs for you I would, just to give you (and me) some relief. You’ve taken the whole never-be-still thing to a whole new level this month as it now includes both sleeping and nursing time as well as all of the other time. The other day you had your feet planted in my lap, your butt up in the air, and you were nursing. I wasn’t supporting you with my hands at all. Just my boob.

This month we moved you from sleeping in the rocker next to our bed to the crib in your own room. We should have done it way sooner, but I just wasn’t ready. I liked being able to open my eyes and see you, reach out and rock you when you fussed, pick you up quickly when you were hungry. But it was time. You were outgrowing the rocker and we needed a little peace in our evening routine. So into the crib you went.

I was nervous about the transition, how you would do, if we would be up all night as you adjusted. We’d always had such a hard time getting you to fall asleep in the past. Turns out, shockingly, that we were the problem. We were holding you back, girl. You just needed your space. I had no idea one tiny person could cover so much ground in their sleep. Every time I check the monitor you are at the opposite end of the crib, feet in the air, rolled over on your stomach, sprawled with a limb in each direction. Middle two fingers on your left hand always in your mouth, hand upside down. It’s still a big challenge to actually get you to sleep, but once you’re out the sleep you’re actually getting is so much better. We’re learning.

Also new this month – solid food! We are taking the Baby-Led Weaning approach, skipping right over baby food and purees and going straight for the good stuff. So far you’ve tried your hand (and mouth) at: broccoli, sweet potatoes, cucumbers, hummus, strawberries, pineapple, all kinds of melon, yogurt, avocado and cheese. You love it. I spend the entire time with my heart in my throat waiting for you to choke. This does not bode well for when we teach you how to drive.

You continue to be so happy, so expressive, so curious and cheerful. Everything is exciting, everything is amazing, everything is screech-worthy. You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, my sweet girl. Every day is an adventure and I’m so glad we’re in it together.

Love,
Mama