Sleep Training Part II:
Sep 7th, 2010
a.k.a., When You Think You Are Going to Change Your Children, They End up Changing You
by Alexis Novak
Everyday, the two parts of my mom self argue. Tough Love Mom and Earthy-Birth-y Mother don’t usually agree but on the topic of co-sleeping, they are diametrically opposed. This is how they sound:
TL: “You have to set the rules and the boundaries. You are the Parent!”
EB: “Yes, but I cannot listen to my child cry ‘Mommy, Heeeeeelllllpppppp Meeeee’ for weeks on end. I know how tough she can be and how long she will fight. I can’t do this all over again. Cry It Out was a bandaid.”
TL: “Then she is training you and she has won.”
EB: “I think I am mostly okay with that. I am just going to have to drink more coffee.”
You see, when my iron-willed Punky was about 13 months old, I found myself mindlessly driving her around a big winding loop in my city for 45 minutes, twice a day, all the while maintaining 30+ mph. This was the only way she would sleep. When I laid her in her crib, her eyes would pop open like plastic dolly eyes and she would wail until we rescued her. Then I discovered I was pregnant and the mono-like-exhaustion helped me abruptly decide that the coddling needed to stop. The Baby Bjorning her to sleep every night, the endless rocking and shushing, the late night stroller walks, all the motion had to stop. This chick was going to learn how to self-soothe.
I read every single popular sleep book and tried the philosophies they espoused. We tried the go-in-and-pat-her-every-10 minutes method, the put-her-down-still-drowsy-but-not-yet-asleep thing, the blast-classical-music-until-it-drowns-out-your-baby’s-cries technique. As a new mom I held firm to the belief that letting your baby cry ‘til they passed out was cruel and heartless. Then, I found it to be my last option. I spoke with moms, my pediatrician and had a free consult with a child psychologist who walked me through it.
The first few days were easy. It was the 5th and 6th day that I white-knuckled through. Punky was so livid that she screamed intermittently for 2-and-a-half painful hours on the worst day. My pediatrician said that was a record and the psychologist said “that is one tough cookie”. They both blamed her “temperament”. (When your child is stubborn as hell people will often refer to their temperament. This is a polite way of saying your kid is difficult and they are not sure what to do about it). She almost made herself throw up a few times. Listening to her crying, I wanted to throw up too.
I stuck it out though, and it worked brilliantly. For the last year, Punky slept well, all night long, usually 11 hours. She was cured! I was well-rested. It was a Mom Victory heard ‘round my block. I even bragged to new mom friends that sleep training was my forte and to bring on all inquiries. Ha. Amateur.
Fast forward to today. Punky is a “spirited” 28 month old who just recently discovered how to escape her Big Girl bed and jump into ours, mostly at 12, 2 and 4 a.m. First she said she was scared of the birds singing outside her window. Then, a birthday picture of herself, red-eyed, eating a giant cupcake was the issue. The next night, a ceiling crack was suspect. Per her doctor, the hubs and I did an elaborate exorcism ceremony where we sprayed all the scary things out of her room with Febreeze. She loved the pomp and circumstance but continued to wiggle her way into our increasingly-shrinking Queen-sized bed.
Two weeks of this and my husband and I were getting frustrated. We rationalized with her. We set up a ladybug sticker chart and rewards system just like I could imagine SuperNanny doing if she were here. But Punky was the same exact child we tried to sleep train before. For five nights straight, she screamed at her door for 40 minutes and then passed out on the floor crying. I was done. Because this round, I am a different mother.
Parenting Punky has taught me how ignorant I was to think I would mold and shape her to my liking and to our convenience. She was born strong and she’s amazing.
We are now trying a compromise. I lie down next to her for 15 minutes each night until her breathing changes to slow, rhythmic sighs and then I try to inch my body off her insanely creaky day bed, slithering out from between the dolls she isclenching and the guardrail.
An insightful mom friend said it is a phase and to ride it out; that there must be something that is making her needier now. This week, I am leaning towards this way of thinking. One day she will probably be a grouchy teenager, full of disapproval for me and choices I have made. I asked her the other night as I cuddled her to sleep if she is scared of something in her room or just misses me at night, half-knowing the answer I would receive. She smiled, whispered, “miss Mommy” and threw her arms around my neck.
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