I had a possible misstep today on the way to teaching my son good sleep habits. We had some errands to run this morning and he got up a little earlier than usual (9:45 instead of 10:30), so things were a little off-kilter to begin with. But when he hadn't gotten a nap in by about 3:00 in the afternoon, I knew I had trouble on my hands. I decided to put our nighttime routine to the test ... and it backfired. Really, really backfired. He cried longer, harder, and more sorrowfully than he does when he gets his shots at the doctor's office. He cried like I abandoned him, in an alley, without anything to eat, and I killed his puppy (no, he doesn't have a puppy, but if he did and I killed it, this is how he would cry).
Luckily, my husband came home right as this fiasco was ramping up and gave me a much-needed hug. We talked for a bit and tried to just let him cry to sleep, but he got more and more frantic as the seconds ticked by. Finally, my husband went upstairs, found him standing up, and tried to lay him back down. My son freaked out the moment his feet touched the mattress, and soon he was gasping for air between screams and tears.
With my son sobbing beyond control, I decided to abort the nap abruptly and told my hubby he could scoop our baby up. As he did, Little B saw me and wanted nothing to do with Daddy, something he hasn't really done before and surprising since I was the one that left him there in the first place. He finally calmed down, but he wasn't himself for an hour or two after that and I wondered how it would affect our nighttime routine.
Well, we got down to business tonight with a bath (tomorrow we're going to a baby shower so I had to have him smelling delicious for the ladies), and then pajama time. I nursed him and he fell asleep, but I burped him a little more vigorously than usual and he woke up a bit. Still very drowsy, he sat on my lap as I "read" him The Very Hungry Caterpillar from memory. Then ... the moment of truth. I stood up with him and as we blew out the light he started to squirm in my arms and whimper.
Uh oh.
I hugged him close and whispered in his ear that it was bedtime, that I love him SO much, that I have faith in him that he can get himself to sleep, and that I will be right across the hall. Apparently he didn't buy any of that because the instant I set him into his crib he cried ... just like he did during his nap. Again, I reassured him that he was okay, blew him a kiss, gave him Mr. Bear, then left the room. As I slipped out of sight, he went into hysterics, but I decided to give him a minute to try to calm himself down. Five minutes later, I could still hear him sobbing from his nursery, so I went upstairs to help.
As usual, he was standing up chewing on the side of his crib, tears streaming down his face. Without lifting him out of the crib, I laid him back down, gave him Mr. Bear, put my hand on his chest, and told him in my calmest voice* that everything would be okay and that it was time for bed. After laying him down once more, he seemed to be okay enough for me to leave ... so I did.
He only cried for a few more minutes, then he fell asleep. We'll see how tonight goes ... (knock on wood).
*On the inside, my heart was breaking at the thought that he either a) couldn't do this without me anymore or b) didn't trust that I would be there for him.
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