Sleeping Like a Baby

When pregnant with Baby #1, Dear Hubby and I researched cribs and crib mattresses as if world peace hinged on our decision. Of course, we also had a bassinet for our room, where we figured she might sleep for "a few weeks, maybe" until we moved her across the hall to her own room, because . . . that's what parents do, that's what parents need, that's what babies do, that's what babies need.

Baby #1 (aka, Agent E) had a different idea.

I'll spare you the saga of long nights sitting up with E, attempt after failed attempt to get her back in that bassinet. How I swung back and forth between letting her "really" wake up (i.e., get mad enough to start crying) and grabbing her immediately at the first whimper. How it took me weeks (months? It's a blur now.) to realize that her night time needs were not going to go away, and I needed a sustainable plan for dealing with them while maintaining my own sanity.

Someone had given me a copy of a very nice sounding book about infant/child sleep. I won't mention it specifically, but let's just say it implied that following its recommendations would not only lead to "better" sleep all around, but also health and happiness. So promising! And then I actually read it.

Truthfully, it made me queasy. Forcing baby into a strict schedule to fit your needs (not hers), solitary sleep in a dark room with no contact presented as the only option, listening to your baby cry for up to an hour, even if she made herself throw up. I had a hard time believing (to put it mildly) that people read this and think, yeah, that sounds about right.

I knew there had to be another way. I wandered the "baby and child care" section at the nearest bookstore looking for something to pop out at me. I came home with a copy of The Baby Book by Dr. Sears. I began reading it a little at a time during E's nursing sessions (which were plentiful, and new-mom confusing in their own right, another post). 

Holy light-bulb moments. I nodded along so much with the text, at one point I might have been mistaken for a Breastfeeding Bobblehead.

The thing is, I hadn't considered sleep "options" at all while pregnant. In my mind, there was only one thing to do: solo sleep, bassinet to crib as quickly as possible, baby in her own room basically from the get-go. I didn't even realize there were choices: bedsharing vs. co-sleeping (no; they're not the same), crib in the same room vs. crib in a separate room, starting out the night in one place and moving on the first wake up. It seems ridiculous to me now (and even a tad embarrassing) that it never occurred to me that I could do whichever one of these worked for us as a family and it would be fine.

Still, I hesitated. If I bought a bed rail, did that mean I couldn't change my mind and move her out of our bed later if it weren't working? If I asked Hubby to dismantle the crib and refashion it as a sidecar, did that mean I had to commit to this idea long term?

I know a huge part of the problem I had reconciling my choices at first was that conventional wisdom about babies and sleep led me to think in absolutes. I was confronted from every angle by if . . . then statements. If you bring baby into your bed, then she'll never want to leave. If you don't teach her to sleep on her own, then she will depend on you to fall asleep forever. If you always nurse to sleep, then she will always expect it.

The major flaw in this logic is that it assumes babies (and children, and parents for that matter) are inflexible and stagnant. This is simply not true. Babies' needs change. Parents' needs change. Everything changes.

The other flaw is that it imposes an unnatural sense of urgency on a natural development. The belief that simply waiting it out is not good enough. That you need to take action. Speed things up.

The truth is, it is okay to wait. It is okay to allow your baby (or toddler, or preschooler) to ease into solo sleep following his or her own timeframe. Really.

As for my little Agent E? The one whose newborn night time needs caused me to re-evaluate? She'll be seven soon. Contrary to what well-meaning folks tried to warn me about, she sleeps well, all night (barring any illness or nightmares), in her own bed, without coercion. Oh, and she weaned a long time ago, mostly of her own accord. As all children eventually do, she gave up nursing to sleep, she no longer needed me to be near her all night, and she learned to not just tolerate but actually love her own bed in her own room . . . when she was ready.

Thanks for reading and have a blessed day.

p.s. How serendipitous that as I was drafting this post (and puttering, ahem) a status from SortaCrunchy (awesome blog, BTW) came through my newsfeed about a Facebook group, "Wait It Out" Method Support (Toddler/Infant Sleep). 

A Letter To My Preggo Self

Today I'd like to share some wisdom with my first-time pregnant, anticipating the birth of Agent E, confused, overwhelmed self. Following are just a few things it would have been nice to know in advance.

The birth class at the hospital will be pointless. Still, you attend out of obligation and hang on every word. You even drag your husband with you, with pillows. (Why do they ask you to bring pillows? It's not like they have nap time halfway through.) You come away with a list of things to bring to the birth, including but not limited to a giant ball to sit on, music (with your own boom box), and more pillows. Then you go into labor at 2:00 a.m., three weeks early, before you pack your hospital bag. So, you throw your cell phone and a few pairs of underwear in a backpack and consider yourself ready. When Baby #2 comes along, you plan what you are taking right after you pee on the stick.

Take more pictures of your pregnant shape. Yes, you will go on to do this two more times, but each growing baby deserves its own photographic evidence. Then back them up; your computer will crash when your daughter is a few weeks old and you will lose some beautiful photos forever.

You have already decided you will breastfeed, and that's great! However, you seem to think it will be quite simple since you've read a few chapters of a (lame) pregnancy book. Trust me; you do not have the first clue what breastfeeding is really going to be like. You know those breastfeeding classes you have seen advertised? The ones you have been kind of giggling at and making fun of? Take one. I'm serious. Take. The. Class. Plus, you still have some unresolved negative feelings about nursing from what you've heard from friends and the media. Get over it, and get to a La Leche League meeting. Your future self will be most grateful, and someday write this about your breastfeeding experience and how far you've come.

About that pathetic pre-birth reading list . . . you could really use some new material. Go ahead now and buy a copy of The Baby Book. While you're at it, pick up a copy of The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding as well. Read them both from cover to cover. Now do it again. Stop reading pregnancy magazines, mainstream parenting magazines, and online message boards. You're just making yourself crazy.

Buy some cute newborn clothes and pajamas. Everyone will tell you it's not worth it, they outgrow them too fast, and to buy 3-6 month stuff instead. However, you will birth a tiny baby who will be completely swallowed by every article of clothing you have. Luckily, some nice friend (who's been there, three times) will give you some clothes that actually fit, and it will be much easier to dress her for the first two months.

You will debate the merits of crib style and mattress firmness as if the fate of the universe depended on it. And you will end up co-sleeping. Congratulations: You just purchased the most expensive cat bed and stuffed toy receptacle ever. Actually, that's not 100% true. Eventually you will discover if you remove the front it makes a great sidecar. Agent E will sleep here until she's almost three. And you will kick yourself for taking so long to figure this out.

That Baby Papasan chair you get as a baby shower gift? The one you open and think, "what in the heck will I need this for?" All three babies will spend many, many nights sleeping in there when stuffy noses, earaches, or tummy troubles require them to sleep upright. It will end up being one of your most used baby items.

The CIO sleep book you also receive as a gift? Exchange it for a copy of The No-Cry Sleep Solution. Or take bookstore credit, buy yourself a fancy latte and a muffin at the in-house coffee shop, and get some quiet writing time in while you can.

Do get a good supply of those thin receiving blankets. You will use them for many things . . . to lay the baby on, wrap the baby in, as a towel, as a burp cloth, to put under the baby for diaper changes, to cover the baby while sleeping or nursing . . . everything. Skip pretty, fluffy blankets, and definitely pass on the crib bumper (see above).

Don't buy wicker baskets. Not for putting toys in, not for storing little baby washcloths, not for anything. I know they're in all the catalog pictures, they look cute, and they have those pretty liners with the tie on the front that matches the changing table pad cover. And when you find them on clearance at Target it will be hard to resist. But . . . babies try to eat them, toddlers destroy them, and preschoolers use them as footstools. Someday you'll be pulling shards of wood out of your 15-month-old's mouth. Forget sweet and buy big, ugly, plastic bins from the get-go.

Most importantly, when E arrives, after you get through the blurry post-birth hemorrhaging fiasco, unravel the swaddling and pick her up. Hold her to your body. Do this as many hours a day as you are physically able. Someday you will regret not focusing on this skin-to-skin time until your third baby comes along. Do it for E. And for J, too.

What would you tell your first-time pregnant self?

Thanks for reading and have a blessed day.