Or close enough anyway. Last night at about 11:30 Nate woke up crying. I checked him, rocked him until he fell asleep and put him down. As soon as he got to the crib he woke up screaming. Nothing wrong, just wanted to be held. So y'all I decided.
This is it.
Time for Nate to start going it on his own.
So I walked away.
The boy screamed and screamed and screamed, and then screamed some more just in case I wasn't listening (or had suddenly been struck deaf). I didn't know what to do, I didn't feel like I could just sit and watch TV while he was screaming, so I shut off all the lights and sat in the dark and watched the clock. It felt like my heart and my stomach were trying to tear their way out of my body and take as many other organs as they could with them.
About twenty heart-pounding, gut-wrenching minutes later I went into his room. He was flipped over and crying like his heart was breaking. Y'all I felt like a monster. Like how could I possibly do this to my child. But I've been reading books, and believing some of what people-who-know-better-than-me are saying about this whole sleeping thing. So I sucked it up. I put him on his back, put his pacifier in his mouth, sperad the blanket over him and left.
And you know what?
He stopped crying.
And more than that....
He went to sleep.
I still sat up for another hour or so biting my nails and listening for every little sound. Justin thought I was nuts when he got home from work and found me sitting in the dark looking tragic (drama queen) and mumbling to myself.
Tonight I was feeding him and he fell asleep during cuddle time. I secretly breathed a huge sigh of relief. I wouldn't have to go through it all again (selfish aren't I?). A half an hour later he started to cry. Well, just repeat last night. Only this time it was fifteen minutes and I felt just as crummy.
But it seems to be working. I hope so or I need a waaaaaaay thicker skin.
And some tequila, lots of tequila.
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