Minkgirl Muses

SLEEP

Another day, another 5 1/2 hours of sleep. Since Gabriel learned to climb out of his crib a month ago, night-time has become a murky terrain of begging, pleading, cajoling, threatening and myriad trips up and down the hall. I know others have survived this time. I know they call it the "Terrible Two's" for a reason. But I'm having trouble adjusting. Life was so good 3 months ago, when I got 8 hours of sleep a night (if I chose), and Gman spent a blissful 11 in his crib without a peep.

"This too shall pass," says my mother and my best friend. I know they are right. But lack of sleep makes the present feel eternal - there is no day, no night, no alone time - just awake time with a very energized toddler.

I've tried a lot of techniques - making the "big boy bed" a big deal. Reward systems. Creating a cozy nest with pillows and blankets. Night-lights. Chats about how sleep gives us energy to play. Sleeping next to him in his room. Letting him sleep next to me in my room. (The last two are the only things that work.) But honestly, I don't want to go too far down either of those paths. I want him to enjoy reading books with me, enjoy a special story and song, and then enjoy drifting off to dreamland and staying there until morning. This, is apparently asking too much.

I remember when Gman was 8 months old - another terrible chapter in our sleep history. He was waking up 3-4 times a night, for an average of 1 1/2 hours, and the only way he would fall back asleep is if I was holding him at a 45 degree angle while standing up! I thought I was going to lose my mind. And I went to see his pediatrician - who I love and who has helped me with many problems - to see if he could offer any advice on things I could do, and he said with a twinke in his eye, "Well, you know I wouldn't worry about it, most kids sleep through the night by the time they're 8 years old." I know he was trying to bring a little levity to the situation, but frankly, I didn't find his comment funny at all. I remember thinking indignantly, "How dare you mock my pain!" And it didn't really seem like a stretch at that point that it might take Gman until he was 8 years old to settle into a consistent night-time routine. I was desolate and desperate.

Shortly thereafter, my husband and I committed to trying "Crying It Out." Previously I had read about both the hard-core and soft-core versions of this practice, as well as the gentler free-to-be-you-and-me 'No Cry Sleep Solution', and found myself befuddled about what to try. Yet, I worried that any kind of crying might scar Gman emotionally (regardless of the fact that all the experienced moms I knew told me that it is the only way, and it's just a question of when you the parent are ready to try it.) The first night, Gman howled away for 45 minutes, we drank a bottle of wine and I cried with him. The second night, Gman wept for 30 minutes, we drank a bottle of wine and I whimpered. And by the tenth night, everybody had worked it out and for the most part Gman was sleeping soundly through the night. What was great about this plan was that even though the results were not immediate, I did see evidence that it was going to work almost immediately. That gave me the fortitude to stick with the project and the confidence that it was the right solution to our problem.

But to return to my current dilemma...so far I've seen few glimmers of success with any of my nighttime toddler wrangling efforts. I thought I was on to something the other night when Gman refused to go to bed, and after an hour and a half of lying next to him while he flopped around, I finally got up, left his room, turned off all the lights in the house except for a tiny bedside lamp that I used to grade papers and completely ignored him. He was mystified. He wandered around the house trying to play in the dark or somehow take advantage of my unexpected lattitude. He tried to engage with me but quickly gave up when I refused to acknowledge him. And while he spent an hour wandering around, he never cried, and eventually I guess it just got too boring for him and he went and laid down in his bed and went to sleep. That was nice. He actually slept for 5 or 6 hours before waking up too.

But this experiment has been difficult to retreat for various reasons, and it doesn't really serve when he wakes up cranky and exhausted in the middle of the night and wants to climb into bed with me. I wish I could stick to my guns at such moments, but I find that being yanked out of REM leaves me in a vulnerable state during which I am easily swayed to do anything to return to sleep.

Ah well. "This too shall pass" the wise ones say. And they are wise. I believe them. Mostly. And I also believe that the universe is revealing to me once again just how much I have to learn about patience, fortitude and forgiveness.

Be well.

Labels: Family Life, m, Mamahood

NEOPHYTE

Wow. I'm sitting in the house of Britt Bravo (nee Aageson) learning about the marvels of blogging and podcasting. Apparently while I've been scraping oatmeal off the kitchen floor and hunting for tiny socks, the rest of the world has been having one long chat-a-thon. Time for me to join the conversation.

Be well.