Dear Elsie,
We have made a change. Where once I lulled you to sleep through swaddling and rocking in my loving embrace, now I just hurl you into your crib and walk away, oblivious to your pained howling.
Not quite true, but that’s how it feels doesn’t it? Change is like that; it feels wrong.
Let me explain.
We were going crazy rocking you to sleep, Kitten. Well, that part wasn’t so bad (I kind of liked the aerobic challenge, the frantic jumping–rocking–sprinting from door to closet all leading to profuse sweating), but it was the putting you in your crib and having you wake up an instant later. That was the annoying bit. We couldn’t do it any more.
A crazy half-baked grumpy mama during your waking hours is also wrong.
I am sorry, my love. Change is uncomfortable, and you’re finding it to be quite so. Quite, quite so. Just so you know, I am also uncomfortable. My heart palpitates as you shriek. So it sucks to be both of us then.
As it stands on Wednesday at 2:36 PM, you have finally cried yourself to sleep in a seated posture with your head slumped forward. The AM nap was a no go. I called the crying quits at one hour and fifteen at which point I felt defeated and you were more tired than ever. Blah. Blah. Blah. Bow Wow. La, la, la, quack. Insert gibberish here. Yep. We comforted ourselves with pancakes. Yes, Kitten, another round of warm carbs. You know your mama. Insert animal noises. Comfort and release. Anyway.
Your current position doesn’t look particularly comfortable, but then again, I’m not quite as flexible as you, my little yogi. I don’t think I could ever put my legs quite like that and my head just so.
That’s all for now. I love you, sweet daughter, even though you might be thinking otherwise. Take comfort in Sally the lamb, or Bubba the bear, or the myriad other stuffed animals I have surrounded you with so you have a sense of community as you drift into the land of sleep. Right, you’re not so much drifting there right now, but my hope is that one day very soon you will find slumber in this gentle way.
I am the noble facilitator who is helping you achieve this challenging feat! Hear me roar.
Love love, Mama
6 Comments
Oh I so understand. Who would have thought sleep was such a hard thing to teach? We finally had to resort to the same tactics too. I feel your pain
It happens to all of us. Oh, it hurts. I don’t look forward to it with Max, and I know it will come.
Perhaps a small bottle with warm water to suck on for going down at night might help. With new routine, a soothing pat and the bottle.
Love,
Aunt Elaine
I like how you surround her with crib community – this was a blog about crying and I actually laughed out loud at that line! You’re both troopers, ladies of my life!
xo
good. somebody should laugh.
no matter how old you are, crying yourself to sleep is ZERO fun.
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