Thump…Thump…Thump…Thump
It’s a quarter to midnight on a Thursday night, and Baby G
is on night number three of a bedtime sleeping strike. The first night, he was playing with his pacifier, taking it
out, popping it back in, yanking it out, popping back in, an endless cycle
until one overzealous yank flung the binkie out of his reach and into the
black abyss that is his nursery, at which point he started with the warning
stutters of a pending full-on wail.
Last night, he was attempting to grab at the tiny teddy bears dangling
from the mobile hanging above his crib, all the while happily babbling to
himself, or to the bears, or to Jesus. Tonight,
he is protesting sleep by swinging his legs high in the air and plopping them down
on his crib mattress repeatedly. Thump…Thump…Thump…Thump.
I expect him to peter out somewhere between midnight and 1
a.m., at which point he will start with those warning stutters of a pending
full-on wail as a request to be ‘topped off’ as I say. I’m not complaining.
Someday I’ll sleep through the night again…I know I
will. Yes, I realize I’ve been
saying that for all of his 9 months.
At times, I would say it with more vigor &
determination; especially if this was a workday morning following a night of 5-6 wakings. As a newborn all the way up until about 7 months, Baby G was dealing with some undiagnosed Eczema skin issues that we had mistaken for colic and gas and reflux and allergies and over-stimulation and under-stimulation and oversupply issues and low-supply issues (get the idea?), so we weren't keen on putting him on a sleep schedule until we figured out what was going on with him. Which was fun, as I learned how to function during the day as a SLP zombie for 3/4 of a school year, and in the evenings come home to a very fussy little dude. Ah, those were the days. Good times! Once we figured out the Eczema issues, and pinpointed the solutions, his sleep schedule has, for the most part, taken care of itself. I digress.
Other times, I
would say it with feigned anticipation, much like how you would say you’re
looking forward to starting that new diet, because although you want the weight
loss, you just aren’t sure if you really want to give up the chocolate fudge
brownies.
As for tonight, it would definitely take on the latter tone. In fact, I'm considering not saying it at all. I don’t have to work in the morning and he’s
only a baby once, and is growing WAY TOO FAST might I add, so to be perfectly
honest, I cherish these late night nursings, even at 9 months. Perhaps I should say I particularly
cherish feeling needed by him and choose to see this as an extra bonding
session where we can ‘touch base’ with each other, for I am given daily clues
that these baby days are limited. At 9 months, he is doing SO many more
things that showcase his growing independence, and as a result, his inevitable
separation from his mommy a little too quickly for her liking.
Crawling, for example.
And usually in an away-from-mommy direction.
Which is healthy and very exciting, but also a little bit
saddening because the days of my tiny, stationary, pre-mobile baby are now a
memory. GAH! No one ever warns you that motherhood
is so schizophrenic. Or is it bipolar? Watching my
baby grow is my greatest pride and strangely, at the same time, my greatest
sorrow. Oh Lord, I’m one of THOSE
moms. Tissues, anyone?
However, the joy reflected on HIS face when he accomplishes
something for the very first time is truly, totally, and completely worth all the tearful goodbyes to
his previous stages, phases, and ages.
So, Baby Boy, here is my proposition to you. You are welcome and strongly encouraged
to grow, accomplish, excel, conquer, and explore all you want during the day,
so long as you meet me at night to rock a bit and rest your still-so-very-sweet-and-not-yet-big-baby
head on my shoulder as you drift off to those baby dreams, for just a little
while longer.
