Thu 15 Mar 2012
Dear Allie,
Forgive me for letting you cry it out for the first time tonight. When you woke up during the transfer from the bedtime feeding to your crib, I knew there was no easy drift back to sleep for you. You were too wide-eyed, and I knew what was coming based on what had come in the past couple of weeks when you looked like that. I am so worn today, I noticed my movements were sluggish and going up the stairs made me out of breath. I couldn’t do it, my body was shutting down. When I realized you were screaming and not actually crying, when I realized you are not in pain, you are not hungry, you are not unclean, and you are safe and healthy, I knew you were screaming and thrashing in protest. I stayed with you a few minutes and when it didn’t die down, I decided I would watch you from the monitor downstairs. Mommy didn’t leave you; mommy kept her heart in your crib and her eyes on your image. You thrashed in between small attempts to soothe yourself with your thumb, just like you did when I held you last night during your screaming fit. It was the same tantrum, only this time, less tears, more yelling. I realized also that your fit is following the same pattern — kick and thrash and scream, suckle a second, kick and thrash and scream, suckle a second. You can soothe yourself, you know how to do it, you are choosing not to and are choosing to protest. It took about 30 minutes between the end of your feeding and the time you fell asleep as I held you during your tantrum last night; tonight in your crib, following the same protest patterns as the self-soothing increments became longer and the screaming increments became shorter, the total duration of your tantrum was 22 minutes. It was a revelation to realize that you would be doing the same thing for the same duration whether I held you or not.
I never thought I would be sitting here, watching you scream and kick, and be doing nothing. I thought if I did everything I could to make sure you got enough rest, got you used to napping and used to sleeping, that you would just easily transition into sleep, every day, every night, every nap. People told me differently, books told me differently. Someone said babies often stop sleeping through the night at your age. I hoped that would not be you. I really did everything in my power. Everything. You don’t know how close I came to walking outside today and telling the neighbors to stop yelling at their kids to get in the car, telling the neighborhood kids to play more quietly, telling them to get their stupid dog to stop barking. I have a sleeping baby who’s noise sensitive, can’t the neighborhood just shut up and let my baby nap?
Daddy thinks you’re teething. I pointed out how the front of your lower gums look wider and paler in two spots where your lower front teeth would be. He said yup, you’re teething. It’ll be awhile before the tooth comes out, but they’re working on it. Given that, along with your major developmental breakthroughs, of course you have your opinion. You don’t want to go in the crib. You’re tired but you want to fight me. You’re aware. You’re cognitive. You have a will. You now realize you can exercise your will, loudly.
I like it when you laugh loudly. I enjoyed it when you walked, with my assistance, to the wicker storage cube today and touched it on your own, testing the texture, learning how your nails scratching on it makes a sound. You studied it, you felt it with both hands, fingertips scratching and rubbing. You’re getting smarter by the day. I’m so proud of you for that, and wish growing pains were easier on you, and wish that you’d know enough to trust me when I put you to bed.
There’ll be many more battles to come, but for now, while I watch you soundly sleep on your bear, with the usual widespread arms, legs pulled up like little frog legs, I’m simultaneously sorry I had to let you cry for 22 minutes to get there, scared I may have to do it again, and relieved that I may be helping you in a tough love sort of way that would hopefully make the overall process shorter. I don’t know whether I’m the worst mother in the world for those 22 minutes, or I should be celebrating the success that you’re sleeping on your own without being lulled into it by a parent.
They say once the average baby reaches 4-6 months, real sleep training can begin, and the cry-it-out is the fastest method. I know you’re not 4 months until the 23rd of this month, but I hope you forgive me when you’re well-rested.
Mommy loves you, that’s why.
Aww, you are a fabo mommy!!! Being a parent is the hardest job you will ever have. Don’t beat yourself up over allowing Allie to cry it out. I can remember doing the mental checklist of all the things you mentioned, then putting our son in his crib, closing the door and going to sit outside (on the side of the house where his room was, we didn’t have fancy nanny cams back then!! Ha) and crying my heart out. It will get better I promise you. Our daughter in law had a rough time with Caroline sleeping but she is almost 2 and everyone is fabo! This motherhood gig is hard, I personally was much more comfortable with our two once they hit the year mark and could interact. Thankfully hubby and our nanny were fabo with young babies. I didn’t work until our daughter was 6 months old and our son was almost 4. I look back and think how in the word did I stay home back then? Very thankful I did but boy was it hard! You are a great mom, and it will get better!!!
I cried, too. Not when I was staring at the monitor, because I was too anxious to cry. After she went to sleep, and I was relieved enough to write this post, I cried all the way through it. I’m crying now after re-reading the first paragraph.
Every parent’s story in the crying-it-out exemplars in my books starts with them (usually the mom) sitting outside the baby’s room or on the the stairs, crying as the baby cried, doing the hardest thing in the world of forcing herself to not respond to her baby.
This maternity leave has been the most difficult period of my life in a situation where nothing is wrong. I’ve had sleepless weeks before — breakups were hard, worrying when loved ones were sick, all those have been emotionally tolling, but then there was something “wrong.” This is just “hard.” I would’ve never imagined that it would be this hard on me.
Thank you for your stories and encouragement, Marie. It really helps to have a mom with perfectly normal, great kids tell me she went through the same thing and everything has worked out. <3