small milestones

Funny. I wrote this last June. She does sleep though the night now. She does! And I DO wake up, deliberately, before she does (most of the time) to just get my bearings. (It is necessary!) But for such a time- all the days and nights run together...

June 16, 2010

The day started off with a bang. Or rather, a shrill cry. Blythe woke up just before 6 a.m., an hour before I am willing to get up and start the day with her. Usually, I try my hardest to soothe her back to sleep so that we can get off on the right foot together at precisely 7 o’ clock, when we commence our daily schedule of naps and nursing at certain times, just so. We end at 7:30 p.m., setting her little internal clock on a course for success for this day and all the days of her life henceforth. Not today though. After about five times of putting the pacifier back into her mouth and caressing her cheek with the little lovey in her crib, I said, “Fuck it,” probably out loud, and threw my hands in the air. I picked her up as gently as I could and then stormed around in a stupor, fuming that I was already awake for the day.

It really wouldn’t be such a big deal, except that I’d already been awake with her about four times that night. Every two-to-few hours, Blythe wakes and cries for me, and my body flings itself out of bed before my mind even has a chance to evaluate the situation. I nurse her and lay her softly back down, hoping to go quickly back to sleep myself. On an alarming number of occasions, she will cry again at precisely the moment that I am drifting off, which is a torture like no other I can think of for comparison. Though the interval between cries in such scenarios must be quite short, my body propels itself skyward with as much urgency as ever, and in this manner the night slowly wears on.

For this reason, when 6 a.m. rolls around, and she makes every indication that she is not willing to go back to sleep, I (having no wit or rationale left) stomp around the house and curse.

So on this morning, I got up and texted my husband, who was already off to work, early as ever, but with the advantage of having a full night of sleep under his belt. Once when Lydia was new, I had a terrible cold and drugged myself up with Nyquil while Dave volunteered to sleep on the floor of her room and get up with her in the night. I still heard her first. Dave eventually awoke when I was stepping over him to pluck her out of her crib and tend to her. I still hold this example up when trying to explain to anyone else how well he can sleep though the sound of the crying child at night.

Blythe and I made ourselves comfortable downstairs with strong coffee, brewed already from the programmed coffee pot, and I chose as my devotion on this day, “Sleeping Though the Night” by Jodi Mindell. Basically, I knew I was going to have to go back to relearn something, somewhere, about getting your kid to sleep.

I love this hour. And when my children are sleeping in on a consistent basis, I love to get up before them. Even though I am naturally a night person, I relish this time alone in the morning, time to get my wits about me, time to let the caffeine kick in before being touched, demanded of, complained to, or otherwise needed by three very small, complex persons who’s sense of the world is quite urgent.