Last night, I'd had it. All week we'd been battling at least an hour at bedtime, and then one of us inevitably ended up in Oliver's room (at 11:00 or 2:00 or 3:00) for the rest of the night. And I know all that's doing is reinforcing that when he cries, he gets what he wants. So last night, I said No more! It was Friday night and we had nothing to do today (except cleaning and finishing Christmas errands and grocery shopping and, and, and...) So I decided that we would not give in. We would not sleep in the bed in Oliver's room. He would stay in his crib until 6:00 in the morning.
It took about an hour and a half of five-, ten-, and fifteen-minute check-ins before Oliver finally cried himself to sleep. After that, even though it was only 9:00, Steve and I went to bed. And we slept blissfully. Until 1:48.
I started in with the check-ins again. In between, I reread an entire sleep book I'd bought the last time we had a really rough patch, just to make sure I was doing it right.
And you know what? The crying lasted two hours. Then three. Then four. In that time, Oliver climbed out of his crib twice. (We'll be fixing that issue tonight, perhaps with the crib mattress flat on the floor, as it's on its lowest setting.)
I take it back, it wasn't all crying. It was mostly whining. Interspersed with moments of silence. And then it would ramp back up into crying, and if I happened to check in on him, he would immediately be calmed, but he would not lay down. And then, if I backed away or (god forbid) left the room, he would wail and scream and jump up and down. Then that would slowly taper down into the whining, and the cycle would start all over. And never, not once in those four hours, do I think Oliver laid down.
Around 6:00, I put on the audio recording of The Polar Express, because Liam Neeson's voice is rather soothing. I sat down against the crib, and Oliver was able to reach my hair through the bars. He sat down and played with my hair, and then he laid down. And before long, he was snoring. I, on the other hand, was pretty wide awake still.
That lasted all of about fifteen minutes, before he was awake and crying again.
By that time, it was 6:30. I was exhausted. Since my goal had been in the crib until 6am, I decided to let him lay in the bed with me. I was almost asleep with Oliver curled up against my back when he suddenly climbed on top of me and looked over into my face.
"Ma!" he said.
"Yes, Oliver," I mumbled. "Go to sleep." It was almost 7:00.
"Da!" He was standing then, and pointing at the door. He climbed right over me, and then turned around and found my hand under the blankets. Together, we walked out of his room. He knocked on our bedroom door, then let himself in and ran over to the bed where Dad was asleep. "Da!"
In he went. In I went. Steve, most likely awake, didn't move. Oliver curled up between us and was snoring within minutes.
 |
| Finally zonked after a long and sleepless night. |
He slept until 8:15.
And I decided, in those long and sleepless hours, that I would call a sleep coach. It might not make sense to start anything right before Christmas, when our schedule will be all messed up anyway, but that is going to be my Christmas present to our family. Hopefully better sleep.
