Category: Kids/Parenting

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I feel as though I’ve been reborn. After my post last week about Hayden’s sleep problems, I realized that I actually can get up every hour or two during the night. It’s not really that hard. I don’t have to have an anxiety attack when I go to bed. I don’t have to enjoy getting up 3/4/5/6/7 times a night, but I can do it for a least a little while longer.

I feel free, I feel patient, I feel like a good mom. I realize that the daytime is good—Hayden is a singularly happy little boy, usually very good about taking naps (though he is currently in his crib refusing to sleep), and a curious, inquisitive, fun, cute, strong, growing, beautiful baby boy. He is becoming incredibly adept at pulling himself to standing on furniture. While that’s a little scary at times, it’s amazing to watch him grow up.

It’s also hard to know how much to let go. When he was learning to sit, after I nursed him I would always sit him up by himself. If he started to topple over, I caught him probably 95% of the time. The result? He learned to sit up, no bruises involved. But I can’t just hover over him when he climbs up on the entertainment center waiting for him to fall. I don’t wait for him to fail, I watch in awe as he succeeds. He’s actually quite good at getting back down safely, but he does still fall and bump his head sometimes.

And don’t worry, when he hits his head and cries out in pain, I pick him up and cuddle him. He doesn’t have to grow up all at once, after all.

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After today’s morning nap, I went in to get Hayden and I actually screamed:

I wasn’t afraid for his life; I was just surprised and scared to see his face up there instead of down on the mattress!

He took the time to customize his crib:

I am displeased. That crib was expensive! Oh woodworkin’ Dad, how shalt we fix this?

We’re having a bit of a rough time these days. Naps are good, but nights are horrendous. Last night, which was only slightly worse than typical lately, he nursed at 7 (bedtime), 9:15, 10:30, 12ish, 1ish, 2, 4ish, and 6. Thankfully, he was complacent in bed until after 8 AM. Growth spurt? Torture? An effort to ensure that he’s an only child?

I hate that I obsess over whether or not we’ll have more children based on my problems. It’s almost always when the going gets rough that I think about it—and it’s usually “How could I do this again? And with a toddler running around?” (Sometimes it’s the good times that trigger the same thoughts: “How could I give a new little baby this much attention with Hayden running around as a toddler?” “How could I keep a little baby from killing itself and eating all the electrical cords in the house while keeping Hayden-the-toddler from the same fate?”)

But to be honest, I don’t know how I do it now, either. Last night I made Ryan tell me “You can do this” about 10 times before we fell asleep.

I realized a few weeks ago that I’d always regarded families of “only” three children with a certain stigma, partially because I come from a family of four children. (Four daughters, to be precise. Hooray girls!) Now I have gained a deep respect for anyone who makes it through this childrearing phase even once. Time can only tell how many times I can do it.

Yesterday’s paper had an excellent Carolyn Hax column. I don’t know if she has children, but she is so right in these thoughts on parenting:

There are transcendent moments, yes, absolutely — but it’s such a disservice to minimize what those moments need to transcend: exhaustion, fear, self-doubt, more exhaustion, loneliness, inconsolable screaming, boredom and poop.

If new parents live in the moment, usually it’s not to savor it but to keep themselves from seeing exactly how many moments they have to get through before it gets easier. Getting awakened from a deep sleep is a lot easier to face than the prospect of 800 awakenings from the next 365 sleeps.

We had a transcendent moment before his afternoon nap. I held him and nursed him as he fell asleep, my little innocent angel. I was moved almost to tears. I needed that moment. It recharged my spirit. Too often, I feel as though Hayden has broken my spirit. I’m not even going to talk about our (utterly unsuccessful) attempts to get him to sleep through the night.

He’s waking up from his nap now. I’d better go get him before he pulls himself to his feet again. Note to Ryan: we need to lower that crib tonight!