It's a Miracle

Dear Jack,

I'm sure you've heard the expression "to sleep like a baby".  I'm not sure what baby that saying is referring to, but I'm pretty sure it's not you... Unless what that saying means is "to sleep in chunks of two to three hours with nursing in between".  Then it might be about you.

Sleep has been a challenge with you from the very beginning.  As a newborn, you always wanted to be in someone's arms, or lying right next to someone.  As a new mom, I was happy to oblige.  I spent hours and hours holding you and watching you sleep, marvelling at how perfect you were.  And I completely understood why you'd want to be held -- what newborn wants to be away from the warmth of his parents?  But after a while, it got to the point where being held wasn't a just a nice thing -- it was the only thing you would accept.  Your dad and I would get you to sleep and try to transfer you to your bassinet, bouncy chair, crib, or even our bed, but the minute you would feel yourself being put down, you would wake crying and we'd have to start the whole process over.  So you spent every night sleeping tucked into bed next to me, and every nap and evening sleeping in someone's arms.  I still loved to watch you and feel your sleepy body in my arms, but it also made parenting feel pretty relentless at times (like when your dad was working on PlayRites from 8:00 am to midnight and I would hold you.  All. Day. Long.)

Besides always wanting to sleep with someone (or maybe because of it), you didn't sleep in long chunks.  Ever.  Everyone else seemed to have babies who were sleeping longer and longer stretches (if not all night), but you continued to wake to nurse every two hours, sometimes more.  Add to that a fun phase where you would be wide awake for hours in the middle of the night, and what you get is two exhausted parents.  The sleep deprivation made me feel crazy.  I cried.  I swore.  You seemed not to notice you were causing your mother to lose her mind, and continued to sleep in tiny chunks, never on your own.

By the time we moved to Ottawa, I was completly at a loss about how we were ever going to get you to sleep.  I had read books and blogs, googled and experimented, worried and obsessed.  Still nothing worked to get you to sleep.  I was extremely thankful that we had some extra arms around (arms of people who were still more than happy to hold you) and within a week or two of arriving, I managed to get you to take short naps in a swing we got you.  We also started the tradition of grand-papa taking you for a walk every morning so you would fall asleep in your stroller.  I loved the tradition (because I got a short break) and he did, too (because he got to show you off to everyone he met).

By the time you were about 7 months old, we were able to put to to sleep at night and then lie you down in the middle of our bed.  You would sleep for an hour or so before waking and insisting on being held.  It wasn't much, but we were thanful.  A month later, I started working on getting you to sleep in your crib (in our room).  It only took two or three nights before you seemed ok with the arrangement.  We moved the crib to your own room (your uncle Dan's old room) and within a few more days, I could put you down awake and pat you to sleep in the crib.  Next, you started to nap in your crib without fuss.  It felt like you had given us a huge gift.  After more than eight months, your dad and I started to have some time on our own again.

And you've been doing pretty well since then.  You go to bed without fuss.  You nap well, put yourself to sleep, and are always happy to get into your crib when it's time.  You still wake up in the night, though.  Some nights it's twice, others it's three, four, five times.  Sometimes dad can pat you back to sleep.  Other times, only mom (and nursing) will do.  Sometimes we let you cry to try to help you to learn how to put yourself back to sleep.  We've tried all kinds of things, but no matter what, you still wake up in the night.  I try to feel flattered, to think about how much you must adore me to want to see me over and over every night.  Mostly, I just feel like a zombie.

But last night, a miracle happened in our house.  I put you down to bed at 8:00 (later than usual, since we had been at Mami and Poppi's house).  You went down right away, then woke up crying at 10:20.  I left you for a few minutes, but you were really, really mad, so I went back up to see you.  I rocked you in my arms for a few minutes until you calmed down, then I laid you back in your bed.  You whimpered a little, but fell back to sleep.  I went to bed too, though I didn't think there was much point, since you would probably be up in half an hour (at most) to nurse.

I fell asleep and woke up at 1:00 when your dad got home.  You slept on.  I woke at 3:15, when the cat bugged me.  You slept on.  I woke at 4:25, because my body is used to waking up, I guess.  You slept on.  I woke at 5:18 to a silent house.  I stared at the clock.  I listened for you.  Nothing.  I figured you must have died -- that was the only reasonable explanation for this night.  I drifted off.

You cried for me at 6:05, after 7.5 hours without waking and 10 hours without nursing.

A miracle, 14 months in the making.

I got up and walked (un-zombie like) to your room.  I opened your door with a little flutter of excitement.  I couldn't wait to see your little face and feel your sleepy little body in my arms -- in fourteen months, I had never gone so long without you.