Distance = Perspective (and mush).

You may have noticed the time between postings has been getting longer and longer these days…

Yes, there is a reason.

It’s called being a single parent.  Of course, I am not truly a single parent, something I am grateful for.  However, Vinny is currently working 2,500 miles from home, so at least temporarily I am living the single parent life.

And I have to say: I don’t know how single parents do it.  I am in complete and total awe of any parent that can hack this on their own day in and day out.  I want to give each and every one of them a medal … or a break.

These days I miss the obvious things: help with the kids, an adult in the house to talk to, having my partner to snuggle, doing activities as a family, being able to run an errand all by myself. 

But one of the things I’ve realized (and in a big way) is that I cherish sharing all these moments with Vinny.  It’s an amazing experience to raise children.  However, without your partner to share all those moments with, well, for me it’s less fulfilling … like there is something critical missing each and every day.

And, clearly, there is.  One-quarter of our family is missing, and we feel that hole constantly. 

So I’ve been finding myself, even in moments of frustration, exhaustion, and general crankiness, also feeling very thankful these days.  So often, life doesn’t work out exactly the way you want it to.  We would prefer that Vinny have steady work here, all the time, so that he wouldn’t have to travel, but that isn’t the case presently. 

It would be easy to dwell on the negative aspects of this situation, but at the end of the day what I am reminded of most is how lucky we are to have the life we do: at least there is work, there is a family unit we treasure, there is a place to call home, there is food on our table (albeit with an empty place setting lately). 

We feel our way through life the best we can.  I try to find lessons when things are tough, to learn more about myself.  The last four months I have learned that I can do it on my own if needed (including handling an infestation of mice in our kitchen).  I have learned that I love having my family all together, all the time.  I have learned that it’s impossible to wash dishes with oven mitts on (yes, we are still working on sleep over here).  I have learned most of all that I cannot imagine living my life without Vinny at my side each day. 

Okay, so I’ve also learned that I get a little mushy when Vinny isn’t around.  Only two more weeks of that; I’ll attempt to keep it in check.

And On the Fourth Night There Was Sleep

Sophie slept through the night last night.  I know, I can hardly believe it myself.

And because this topic has been on the radar again recently (see article in Psychology Today), I feel compelled to share my experience.  Yes, we finally relented and resorted to letting Sophie cry it out. 

For those of you that may not know, this is a polarizing, controversial topic.  The approach is basically what it sounds like: letting your babe cry during the night until they get themselves back to sleep (for a little more background, go here – there are several approaches and modified versions of this method, popularized by Dr. Richard Ferber). 

I’ve always had mixed feelings about this sleep training method.  Any parent knows how agonizing it is to listen to your babe scream bloody murder, even if it might be for the (hoped for) greater good.  And I can’t get behind the whole “put ‘em to bed and sleep as far away as possible so you can’t hear ‘em” suggestion, either.

I do believe that at a point a child does need to learn to self-soothe.  This doesn’t mean there aren’t going to be nighttime instances that require parental assistance.  However, I also think babes are creatures of habit, and I know my babe has gotten very, very used to seeing me multiple times per night.  Whether she “needs” me or not, apparently she does like to see my face anywhere from 2-5 times per night.

This might be flattering on some level if I could sleep my days away and party it up with her all night.  Alas, I cannot.

We may have arrived at this point much sooner were it not for the continuing issues with breast feeding, and fluid intake in general.  Her nursing has been so erratic, and as of last week had slowed down to one feeding per day – at about three in the morning. 

I’ve had continued concerns and anxieties about her hydration levels.  When her nursing slowed to this one nighttime feeding for close to a week, I called the pediatrician (again) in a panic, because even her one nighttime feeding was brief, and I could tell she was waking for it out of habit, not hunger.

After a lengthy discussion with the pediatrician, I was assured (although not pleased) that I have on my hands a baby that eats like a linebacker, but that cares very little for fluids of any sort (oh, how I’ve tried).  He ruled out anything being medically wrong with her and concluded that “this is just the way she is.”

When I expressed concern that I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed much longer since her demand is so low (and pumping is not helping to maintain my supply) he said, “You’re probably right.  It’d be preferable, but she’ll be fine.  We’d like her to have breast milk or formula for another couple months, but she’ll be okay either way.”

On some instinctual level, I knew this all along, but hearing someone say it out loud was such a relief.  We all know that during a baby’s first year of life that breast milk (or formula) should be the main source of nutrients.  Sophie has other plans, and I need to accept that.  It hasn’t been easy and I’m still not quite there.

So after attempting to get my head around all of this, and knowing that medically she is on stable ground, I knew it was time to get to work on her sleep habits.  We are both miserable most of the day because neither one of us sleeps for any considerable stretch of time. 

For a long time the only way she would go back to sleep was if she would nurse.  Not nurse to sleep, mind you.  She hasn’t done that since she was two months old.  No, she would nurse, I would lay her back down, and she would go to sleep.

However, as time went on the number of overnight feedings decreased, but not the amount of times she woke up.  Most babes want to be snuggled back to sleep.  Not Sophie.  She does want me to come in and pick her up.  But then she gets antsy and wants me to put her back down.  So I do.  And sometimes that’s enough, and sometimes it isn’t.

Long story short, she fusses for much of the night.  She resists going back to sleep, for whatever reason(s) she has.

With crying it out you have to be consistent.  And for me there’s any number of reasons why I’ll eventually go in to rescue her.

As anyone who knows me could attest, after nine months of no sleep I am truly not myself these days.  I’m forgetful.  Cranky.  Struggle to concentrate.  Struggle to make decisions.  Struggle to take good care of myself as I use what little energy I have to care for everyone else.  As you can see, it’s a struggle.

So something had to give.

We started last Thursday.  I kept asking, “We’re really going to do this?  We’ll really just not go in there?”  I was nervous (I have to mention I tried a modified version of crying it out three months ago, where you go in at set times during the crying to briefly soothe – but not pick up – your baby.  This did not go well, so for this go-round we decided to go all in.  I will also point out that my pediatrician strongly encouraged trying this method for 3-5 nights, and to my doubtful glance said, “I know some people strongly disagree, but I’m telling you it will work.”).

Thankfully, this process has not been as torturous as I had feared.  She has woken up, she has fussed, and at times she’s cried hard for short stretches, but so far she hasn’t resorted to that top-of-her-lungs screaming that I can’t stomach.  And part of me knows this is the key to me sticking with the method.  I know her screams.  I know when she’s hungry or when there’s something wrong (i.e. pain from teething).  I also know when she’s simply mad and fussy and wants me to rescue her.  Even though it is hard for me to ignore those kinds of pleas, I am not doing either of us a favor at this point by repeating the rescue cycle.

The third night she woke several times and each time it took her nearly an hour to get herself back to sleep.  It was a long, long night. 

Then last night: she slept from 6:45 – 5:45.  Eleven glorious hours.  I didn’t manage anything like that, waking several times to check her.  She was fine.  She woke this morning babbling happily in her crib.  She never does that, and it put the biggest grin on my face.     

I won’t lie.  I’m not sure I could stick with this if she really screamed for any great length of time.  And even if this “works” for us, I couldn’t be a champion for the method.  It’s honestly come down to desperation and the fact that any other tactic I’ve tried has done nothing to improve her nighttime sleep. 

I’m once again reminded that we do what works best for us at any given moment.  And by “us” I mean parents and Sophie.  I wouldn’t press on if I didn’t think there were benefits in it for her, too. 

Will she do it again tonight?  Have we finally, finally, finally made it over the hump?  I don’t know.  But for the first time in a long time I feel hopeful that maybe things are changing…  for the better.