Crow: Best served cold with a side of humility and a glass of realism

One thing I insisted I would never, never, never do once the baby came was allow him to sleep in my bed.

And then the baby came. And, after a shaky start, I got him back in his room without a good deal of drama.

But then I went back to work and caught a cold (that was replaced by the day care’s sicknessdu jour), and with Baby C not sleeping through the nights (yet? I’m still holding out hope) and insisting on being fed every two and a half to three hours, the only way for me to get any rest was to take him to bed with me for feedings. And then I’d fall asleep, and in bed with me he would remain.

It seems like that was forever ago. And now I’m battling getting the boy to sleep in his own bed for longer than a few minutes. (I’m elated if he stays asleep long enough for me to shower.) I don’t suppose it helps, either, that he’s congested and that I can’t seem to get that last gas bubble out of his tummy.

Thank God this crow is well-seasoned.

So I’ve been up now for the past two hours (not just awake, mind you, but actually up) trying to get Baby C to sleep in his own bed. He’ll do it, but then as soon as I crawl back into the warm safety of my own bed, I’ll hear him crying. Sometimes it’s a cry of hunger. Every now and then it’s a cry of pain (damned gas bubbles). But more often than not, it seems like it’s a cry of frustration at being unable to fall asleep again after waking.

I get especially frustrated when it’s this last type of cry, mainly because I wonder if my actions have hindered the learning of this very important skill. And then I feel exceptionally guilty all over again because I have to work and don’t have the luxury of working with him on this at night and taking naps during the day. I feel like I need to take time off so I can help him figure out this sleeping thing and not have the effects of sleep deprivation affect me as severely as it does at work. And I’m also a little resentful that my husband can seem to sleep through all but the most ear-piercing shrieks while I jump at the faintest whimper. (I don’t rush to the baby’s side for the faintest whimpers; I just hear them and pay closer attention… which means I don’t sleep.)

How did my mother handle this? Well, my grandmother was there to take care of me, for one, and for another, I slept through the night fairly early. My mother-in-law fed my husband cereal at two months so that he would sleep through the night. I’m not quite ready to go that route because (a) Dr W advised against it and (b) my husband has a number of tummy issues that I’d rather Baby C not experience.

Cute Husband will be up in about 45 minutes, and I just put the boy down (again – the third time since I began writing this post). We’ll see how he does. I’m hoping he sleeps for an hour, at least.

As for me, I have some crow to finish. But maybe I should save it for dinner tomorrow.

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