Andrew’s schedule was thrown off last night, so Mr. Aggie sent me to bed at 10 for a couple of hours. At 12, my spawn was returned to me. We went through our routine (book, nurse, rock, bed) but this time it was HIS bed. You would think the crib was electrified given my trepidation about it. I think it’s because I want him to sleep there consistently so, so badly.
Anyway, I rocked him, he was calm, and I put him down in the crib expecting the crying to start. It didn’t. He rolled onto his side, he patted Mr. Penguin, he talked to himself like a loon. He stared at the mobile, he stared at the wall, and finally…he slept.
I was still standing there, mouth agape, suspecting I was in the midst of a vivid hallucination. I mean, I knew babies could put themselves to sleep, I’d read about it happening, but it didn’t seem like it could happen to me. You know, like herpes. Note: [Herpes did not happen to me.]
He slept for an hour before needing to be re-soothed. Then he slept an hour and a half before needed to be refilled. I made the mistake of laying down to nurse him and woke up two hours later with a very peaceful baby cuddled next to me. I was so afraid this would cause him to regress (“You want me to wake up and go back into that box ALONE with no covers and a hard mattress? Hells to the no, lady!”) but I had to try. I rocked him and soothed him, and he never cried, but he wasn’t going to sleep either. I put him in his crib and he began to jabber and play once more.
At this point it’s 6 a.m. and I remember it’s Saturday, and Mr. Aggie is eligible to assist me. So I tag out, telling him that even if Andrew doesn’t go back to sleep, he’ll only be up for an hour before going down for his first nap. I can be tagged back in at that point.
So at 8:00 (now) I wake up, certain that disaster has struck. My husband is wonderful, but he doesn’t do baby overtime. You give him a time at which you can be reactivated, he presents you with a baby within a five minute window of that agreed upon hour (usually five minutes early but whatever). I tiptoe to the nursery, open the door, and see…
They’re both still sleeping! Andrew’s in the crib, Daddy’s on the mattress on the floor, and Mommy’s doing a happy dance in the hallway.
He went into his crib, and stayed there, every time we put him down tonight. He played in it. He soothed himself to sleep at least once. He slept more than 30 minutes at a time.
This is HUGE. (Sidenote: why do people-myself included-feel the need to write ‘huge’ in all caps? Why do we not have the same predilection for dark or emphasized?)
Andrew usually awakens by this time, but his night was thrown off considerably by Mr. Aggie’s late shift (I’m not hatin’, just explainin’) so I don’t know what this morning or his naps will bring. What I do know-and what brings tears of joy to my eyes-is that Andrew knows what to expect before sleep (and it’s not le boob!) and is not afraid of his crib.
“It’s a beautiful mornin’…”