Amelia, This Letter is For You: Sleep Notes

Dear Mela,

Someday you may have children. (I hope! I hope!)

The times will have changed. You will do things differently than how we do them now and look back on our parenting practices as antiquated and maybe even a little cruel (Dr. Spock, anyone?).

One day, though, you'll be tired and worried and fed up and you will come to me and ask questions. Since 30 years will probably have passed (hopefully teen pregnancy is not in our future), I will only be able to remember the broadest strokes (e.g. colic sucks).

So here for you are some thoughts, to help you along:

BABY SLEEP:

Getting your child to sleep is tough. There is no easy answer (in the year 2009) although a million books will say they have the solution.

A lot of it depends on how much your child's crying tears at your heart and how much free time you have. The worst case scenario is when you can't stand to hear your child cry but you don't have the time to "parent them to sleep" (e.g. lay down / rock them to sleep).

And it's complicated because there are times when your child is crying to manipulate you and there are times when your child is crying for a "legitimate" reason (hungry, teething, sick) and they really need your company.

99 times out of a 100, you won't know the difference.

If you're anything like me, you will be influenced both by your friends and your mothers. Some days, you'll swear, "I have to be tough!" and then be amazed when your baby falls asleep on their own. Other days, you'll swear that ignoring your child's cries at night is inhumane and then be flooded with relief when you discover she has a burning fever and was desperately thirsty.

People who don't have babies (or haven't had them in a while) will claim to have answers or say unhelpful things like, "Ahhh, this will pass in no time."

Listening to your child cry for 20 minutes will feel like a lifetime, trust me. (Nathan has been crying the whole time I've been writing this.)

Every day, the only thing consistent about your parenting will be your vow to be more consistent tomorrow. For the record, I was terribly inconsistent. I would make up my mind to do one thing ("He hasn't slept all day! He's going to stay in that crib until he falls alseep on his own!") and then crumble completely and do the exact opposite ("He's shaking from crying so much! I'm going to take him to my bed and nurse him!"). Even though it logically makes no sense, just catching a glimpse of your child's face can undo the stiffest resolve (hint: it helps not to peek).

In the end, I just try to err on the side of love and comfort (really, would we leave an adult to cry alone for an hour if they were that miserable?) unless it was clear that some tough love was needed. I tried to draw lines and set limits (30 mins crying, tops). I tried to live in a world made completely of gray zone, where something that works one day doesn't work the next and I will pick you up when you're crying today even if the books tell me that will make you cry twice as long tomorrow. Whenever possible, I figure it's better to err on the side of compassion and spoiling than on distance and discipline (i.e. "our home is not a gulag").

Most importantly, I kissed you. Every day. As often as you let me and even sometimes when you wouldn't.

I hope with all my heart that at the end of the day and over the years, these kisses will help to outweigh all of the mistakes I've made and am going to make.

That's the best I can do.

Love,
Mama