I waited until Valentine's Day was over to break my son's heart.A few weeks ago, I put my foot down in the name of sleep. Marshall is almost seventeen months old now. That's nearing toddlerhood! Until recently, he depended on me to rock him to sleep. And often, the simple act of gently laying my sleeping boy onto his crib mattress would wake him in a fit of hysterics. He'd leap back up like a possessed clown-shaped bop bag, screams and tears and arms outstretched for Mama.
I admit, I'd often cry, too. And I'd cave. I'd pick up my miserable little boy and miserably rock him back to sleep, only to repeat the whole ordeal after trying to lay him back down in his crib.
For the love of sleep!
Up until now, I refused to let my boy "cry it out." He was just a babe. He needed his mother. And for a good part of the past year or so, I didn't mind rocking him back to sleep. But lately, Jon and I suspected that he was playing us. What gave it away was his way of crying from his crib, then waiting to hear if we were on our way, then wailing with even more vigor if we weren't shaking a leg to his liking.
Do you know what sixteen months of interrupted sleep does to a woman? Ask my husband. It isn't pretty.
Friends, family members and the trusty Internet suggested the popular Five-Ten-Fifteen method:
1. You make sure your baby is as comfortable as can be (bum changed, bottle fed, fever-free, warm and cozy--but not too warm).
2. You place him in his crib, give him a kiss and a hug, wishing him a good night and reminding him that you'll be right here if he needs you.
3. Then you brace yourself for the wail.
4. You wait out of sight in the hallway for five terribly long minutes.
5. You go back in the room and hug and kiss and console.
6. Then you shuffle your ass back out of the room for TEN intolerable minutes.
7. Repeat Step 5.
8. Leave the room for another FIFTEEN minutes.
Nobody ever told me what Step 9 is, or if there is a Step 9. Luckily, I have never had to worry about Step 9.
[Tangent: On an impulse, Jon had picked up a video baby monitor. I had poo-pooed it at the time, reminding him of the day he brought home a heart-shaped tub (which is still stored away, by the way). This purchase on a whim has actually panned out.]
That night, once I reached Step 6, I guiltily trudged back to our bedroom and got into bed, where Jon spooned me supportively. We watched our boy on the TV monitor and kept an eye on the alarm clock. He was standing up, grasping the crib rails and crying his little heart out, which broke our hearts. Then, around the seven-minute mark, something happened. He lay on his pillow! And he fell asleep!
Sigh, on one hand, he did cry himself to sleep, but on the other... he fell asleep, all by himself.
In the weeks following our new bedtime routine, there have been a few rocky nights. However, the incident-free nights far outnumber the sleepless ones. And something amazing happened last night (non-parents may not find this particularly awesome, but--seriously--I think I cried a little): I placed him in his crib and he cozied into his pillow without a whimper. I wished him goodnight and tiptoed out of the room. He didn't make a peep until the next morning.
(I know, it's ironic, but) Sigh, on one hand, he fell asleep, all by himself, but on the other... it's one more thing he can do without my help.
Long-term, uninterrupted sleep is a great thing. Short-term, we're all getting used to Marshall's new ability.
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