I am sitting in our family room in the dark, listening to my baby cry in her nursery, just as I have for the last hour. At ten months we are finally, supposedly, teaching her to fall asleep on her own, and apparently it involves tears. Her torment is incessant, a tide of misery building into giant, shuddering sobbing fits and then subsiding, only to rise again. It is impossible to listen to, and unthinkable not to.
At regular intervals I slump into her darkened room to check on her. Each time she is standing at the foot of her crib, bawling, loudly waiting for my return. I am sweet but firm, a difficult combination with all this guilt clawing at me, urging me to end her sadness, to try this process again another night. Instead I murmur to her, brush her hair from her wet face, lay her down, and rub her shuddering back until she quiets. And then, as advised, I back out of the room to let her figure out how to sleep without me. Her howls follow me down the hall.
I feel cruel and selfish and desperately tired. I swore I would never leave Sunshine to cry it out, but those were pre-parent vows, the promises of someone on the other side of all of these sleepless nights. I am doing the right thing. I am. I know I am.
On my web browser, ten tabs open to articles about sleep. The words are different, but they almost all say the same thing: let her cry. Let her cry, and she will fall asleep. It’s not mean. She has to learn. It’s only a few nights. It’s time. I read through them again for affirmation. Still, I nearly rise and go to her a dozen times before the clock says I may.
Finally, her cries slow to an intermittent whine, a tired drizzle. And then…nothing. I blink into the silence, torn between relief and worry. I can go back to bed! Yay! But is she okay? Did she just fall asleep? Did it actually work? I can’t check now, risk repeating all this drama tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough. And, yes, we will have another round of this tomorrow night. And the following. And, all those websites assure me, a few nights after that. But we can do this. For now, baby’s sleeping. And soon, I hope, so will I.
You’re definitely doing the right thing. [nod/hug] Hang in there, hon!
Angie
Isn’t it amazing to look back on pre-baby ideas of parenthood & realize how blissfully ignorant (and judgmental) those without children are allowed to be?! Good luck. I know it’s hard and feels like you are teaching her that you’re not there for her (that you don’t care), but you are teachiing her skills she will need (not just to allow you some much-needed rest) throughout her life. I know you know this & I know it doesn’t make it any easier. But I also know there isn’t a person out there (with kids) who believes that parenting isn’t hard! I’m here if you need me (& often up after 8 if you need some company while Sunshine figures it out! See you soon!
I can only imagine how difficult that would be. Hugs!!
You have my full sympathy. I had to do the same thing with one of mine. It was gut wrenching. I would sit outside her room balling, but eventually she got it and could get herself to sleep. Here’s a little hope for future children: she’s the only one I had to do that with. The others figured out the sleeping thing no problem.
It will get easier.
Thanks for the support. It’s one thing to read it on a website where I don’t know anyone, but much better to read it from you guys. Hubby is off tomorrow, which means he gets to help out tonight. That will be nice.
My mom says you’re doing the right thing, too. I am not sure I could stand it, though, either. Good luck. I know it will do what it’s supposed to in the end, and she will be a very independent sleeper.
Thanks. It sounds like both of us went through crying it out, and we survived. Then again, look at us. Maybe it’s not a good sign! 😀
Oh, my dear, sending hugs and strong mommy vibes your way!!!
I had to do this with my first and I remember too well (20 years later) how gut-wrenching it was. BUT, I am now the mother of a wonderful young woman who is independent in most ways (ahem–laundry being the exception)
And, for extra fuel to let you know you’re doing the right thing: My young neighbor has aged fifty years in the last fifteen months trying to sleep with her 3yo and 11mnthold at the same time because neither of them GO TO BED. She is tired, cranky and beginning to resent her kids. Babies need to SLEEP…independently. For their own good and for the quality parenting well-rested mothers provide.
(rant over…more hugs. in a week/month/year you will thank yourself. And your secure, comfortably sleeping darling daughter will thank you too…eventually.)
Thanks. That really helped to read. I definitely didn’t want to wait that long to teach her to sleep independently, but I can see why your neighbor would put it off. Still, it seems like it would be really hard to break a three-year-long habit, and to have to do it with two kids at once? Ugh! I wish her luck, patience, and lots and lots of sleep.
Caryn, here’s how I can assure you that you’re doing the right thing: Sunshine does, eventually, go to sleep. I know that’s the key thing because I had a kid who was an exception to the rule. There was no subsiding of tears with him. There was no eventual exhaustion. My son not only would NOT fall asleep, he would work himself into such an agitated state that he’d throw up after 20 min. of crying. He did this enough nights in a row that we were convinced that the “let him cry” strategy wasn’t going to EVER work with him no matter what the baby books (or my mother) said…
So, if you’re getting results with Sunshine that are unlike our experience with our son, then it’s working! *g*
Hang in there! It will all be worth it in the end. It truly is harder on you than on the baby.
Oh, I hope so! So far she doesn’t seem phased during the day, so maybe she isn’t doing too badly. She’s her same cheerful, loving, confident, independent, active self.