Joey-girl,
"How well does she sleep at night?" It's one of the first questions we get asked as first-time parents by every family member, friend, and stranger who runs across the highway as soon as they see a stroller.
You started sleeping through the night at seven weeks. We woke up the morning after our first well-rested slumber and checked on you to make sure something wasn't wrong...for about five seconds, we were terrified. But there you were, in your bassinet sprawled out on your back just enjoying a few more moments of bliss.
"Wow, you're lucky." It's the comment we most often receive after relaying our story. A quarter of the time it's said with shock, half the time it's said with a smile of relief and joy, the other quarter say it with a deep stare of haunting darkness and muffled anger. I can only imagine the nightmares of colic those parents have endured to leave their minds and heart so battle-scarred. The mother in me wants to hold their hand and tell them everything will be all right, but the 5-year old in me wants to sing Disney songs until the memory of their sadness is wiped from my brain.The reason I'm bringing this topic up is that last night, we got a glimpse of the darkness. Teething and a week-long cold kept you up and screaming. Your dad and I walked you around, changed your diaper, fed you, sang crappy lullabies, and talked to you in an apologetic voice trying to make up for our lack of parenting magic. Sometime in the AM hours, you finally fell asleep in my arms and stayed asleep after I set you in your crib.
Any parent who does that dance every night...I am standing and applauding your strength. Pretending to applaud...seriously, I don't want to risk waking your baby.
Well Joey, our normal schedule was thrown off today as we both recovered from last night's adventure. At one point, although it was early afternoon, I could have sworn we were back in the 1AM struggle as you told me again through your cries that you needed rest, but your body was ready to fight sleep as if it was threatening to take your last bottle.
I held you. I walked you. I promised it would be okay and kissed your head. Slowly, your muscles relaxed, you buried your face in my shoulder, and the weight of sleep took over. My computer beckoned to me...work, type, read, work, type, read...my body ached, my fingers were going numb...but I just couldn't set you down.
Yes, I was slightly terrified of waking you up by shifting your body even an inch, but ultimately my heart wanted to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. You used to fall asleep in my arms every day, back when your weight was a whisper of warmth wrapped up in a fluffy blanket.
I remembered a video that played on my Facebook feed a few weeks ago... words from "I was going to fold the clothes, but instead I held you" by Regan Long.
Baby girl, I selfishly sat in our old rocking chair and held you as you slept. One day, when you have babies of your own, be selfish. Hold your little one - after a night of no sleep, hold them. After a day of fuss and sniffles, hold them. Kiss their cheeks, brush their hair with your lips, and rest your face against theirs. Hold them like I held you today.
Kick the creeping guilt in the balls.
by Regan Long
