Sleeping Beauty

My blogging absence since declaring war on sleepless nights might indicate to some that I've lost my weary way as a crazy-haired zombie maniac. Au contraire. I have, in fact, spent four - count them FOUR - uninterrupted nights rest. My magic potion? Ignorance. And sleeping in the guest bedroom. Alone. With white noise. Blaring in my ear. Like a chicken.

But each morning I am greeted by my two-toothed smiling baby girl in all her own well-rested glory. So something is working well.

Let me start by explaining why now felt like an appropriate time to "sleep train" via "cry it out" when I poo-pooed it so many previous times before.

For starters, the Bean now regularly demonstrates all sorts of learning. She's kinda like a sponge, the way she soaks up the world - new speech sounds, new ways of moving her fingers, new expressions, new games, etc. For example, it took her about 15 seconds to figure out peek-a-boo the other day. She knew to anticipate a big and exciting greeting from her previously hidden parent. And then she led the charges and covered/revealed her own face. This might sound trivial to some, but to parents, this is the magic of watching a child grow. Other examples of this rapid learning include consistently reaching to be held, grabbing at my shirt when tired, kissing my cheek when asked, looking for Gizzy when instructed, putting the circle block inside the square block with the empty space for the circle, pushing her pink race car like we showed her, getting herself from tummy to seated, learning to stand after practicing for just one half-hour, etc. So how does this relate to sleep training? Well, I am now convinced that she can learn things more easily, make associations more readily, and can thus more independently survive the night. In other words, I want to extinguish her previous associations for sleeping (me laying next to her, boobs in her face, and constant butt-patting) and learning new ones (doing whatever it takes to get herself back to sleep upon waking in the middle of the night).

My second reason for finally jumping aboard the CIO method of sleep training is gut instinct. It just feels like the right time for the Bean to spend the nights in her own room, alone, sleeping. My trusty friend Dr. Weissbluth convinced me that I do her a disservice by reinforcing her reliance on me. He says that it is unhealthy for children to have an absence of unconsolidated sleep.

Which brings me to my last point - fatigue. If it's unhealthy for her to have chronically interrupted sleep, I sure as hell know it's no good for me and my long-term health. Or my youthful glow.

So for the past several nights we continue with our regular evening routine - dinner together, a walk, a bath, some naked play time, PJ's and a disposable diaper, a short story, lights off and white noise on, a personalized rendition of Kumbaya, maybe a little nursing, Soothie in and butt pat/jiggle - and then I cowardly climb into the guest bed downstairs, with the door shut tight and my iPod rocking the ocean waves. Alex has been much braver, sleeping upstairs in our bedroom (next to the nursery), and provides a detailed report to me each morning.

"It was fine. I think she cried. Maybe once. Maybe twice. I don't really remember. I didn't get up though. I just put your pillow over my head."

He's a miracle worker, I tell you.

Our method is simple. Ignore her until 6 a.m. Apparently, it works (so far). Alex has been vaguely aware that she may or may not have woken up in the night. He can't tell me when, how many times, or for how long she fussed. Her night-waking clearly is not up to snuff from the stories I read about CIO online. I'll take it.

But tonight, tonight is different. I am about to go to sleep upstairs in my own bed. I've been hearing phantom baby cries all evening, in anticipation of my overnight adventure. But not to worry, my iPhone is placed directly next to my head, at a volume loud enough to kill off some hair cells. I'm still a chicken, after all.