Pre-mom, the phrase, “Sleep like a baby,” convinced me that babies sleep soundly. ALL. THE. TIME. I mean, where’s the lie in the phrase “A penny saved is a penny earned.” Or “Don’t count your […]
Pre-mom, the phrase, “Sleep like a baby,” convinced me that babies sleep soundly. ALL. THE. TIME. I mean, where’s the lie in the phrase “A penny saved is a penny earned.” Or “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.” Or “Don’t cry over spilt milk.” (Although I have cried over spilt breast milk.) Cliche phrases are cliche for a reason, right? There has to be some truth in there for them to have lasted so long. So, seriously when does a baby “sleep like a baby?”
I knew that sleeping (or lack thereof) was going to be a challenge before I had a baby. I’d heard stories from friends and watched my fair share of ABC Family movies. So yes, I knew there would be sleepless nights. However, I did not know that I’d be dealing with such a professional in the non-sleeping category. If waking up and crying were an Olympic sport, this kid would be getting a gold medal for sure—or at least an honorable mention for participation.
Every two hours.
Every two hours for the last four months.
I’m almost embarrassed to admit it.
We’ve tried everything we can think of to help this little guy figure out he needs to sleep. Yes, there’s been gas, and teething, and the holidays to mess up his schedule. But now we are settled back at home, and although he does show tiny signs of improvement, I’m not sure it’s not enough.
Finally, this week we enlisted the help of a professional sleep coach. (No, it’s not my mother.) We have a plan and a schedule, and now I just have to summon up the courage to try. I haven’t been this anxious since this roller-coaster hater I was coerced into ride Space Mountain at Disneyland. Not only will I more than likely have to endure increments of crying (verging on screaming), but I’m fairly certain I will also have to go through days without ANY sleep.
I don’t know if I can do it.
I don’t know if I should do it.
I keep thinking he will figure it out, and then neither of us will have to go through any of this.
But how long is too long?
I’m hoping that my gut Mom Instinct will kick in and quietly say, “It’s time. He’s ready.” Instead of just growling “You’re hungry again.” So, I’m going to give a few days and feel it out.
So until then, I will just keep eating those Oreos—like my gut is telling me.