Confessions and random musings about life, family, and motherhood
Sunday, August 22, 2010
I'm so tired I'm pretty sure I'm legally impaired. My son has never been a really good sleeper - even now at 11 months he still gets up at least once or twice on a good night. And that's a good night. Those nights are few and far between. A typical night is more like 5 or 6 times, and I don't have the energy to tell you about what a bad night is like.
I've done my research about ways to get your child to sleep through the night. FYI:
I don't have the stomach or nerves for the "cry it out" method, which seems to be the only solution that is "guaranteed" to work (for those who aren't familiar the cry it out method essentially means letting your baby cry themselves to sleep or at least until they've otherwise given up hope that anyone is coming to comfort them). I can't...I won't. So I've tried a multitude of other strategies including room darkening curtains, white noise machines, cereal at bedtime, a pillow under the head of the mattress, a cuddly stuffed animal, and eliminating foods from my diet.
He still doesn't sleep. I don't sleep. I really used to love sleeping, you know?
If I have to hear about one more baby that has been sleeping for 12 hours every night since they were 2 weeks old than I'm gonna...well, I'm not sure what I'm gonna do, but please just don't tell me about it anymore, okay? I can't take it. And just in case you've never been warned before, don't mess with a sleep deprived mama (my husband can attest to the consequences of such messing).
I totally get how some moms just go right off the deep end. Now here's the part I don't get: I wouldn't trade it for anything. Not one minute of it. As exhausted (and I'll admit it - angry) as I am as I stumble into his room for the fourteenth flippin' time a night, when he reaches his little arms for me it all just melts away. I smell his sweet head and feel his little hand stroking my arm and I realize how precious every second of it is.