Hold It Near, As It Were Your Own.

if my words did glow

with the gold of sunshine

and my tunes

were played

on the harp, unstrung

would you hear my voice

come through the music

would you hold it near

as it were your own

Bare feet on the carpet in his bedroom, I hold him up with my arms and my words as I sing this to him.

ripple in still water

when there is no pebble tossed

nor wind to blow

For three nights now, this has been our routine. A hesitant one, at first, as it feels foreign to me. On the first night, I assumed it a fluke. Not since he was a small baby has Rohan wanted to be held and rocked into dreams. Many hours were spent on my beloved yoga ball, bouncing and shushing and cuddling and kissing fat little fingers when he was a newborn. But then he got a little older, learned how to roll, and decided he didn't want to be rocked or shushed; he wanted to be put down with his Bop and his blankie and left alone to fall blissfully to sleep.

there is a road

no simple highway

between the dawn and the dark of night

and if you go

no one may follow

that path is for

your steps alone

And so this has been our routine. Diaper. Jammies. Milk. Kiss. Cuddle. Blankie. Bed. Door. And then sweet silence of slumber until morning time. He hasn't been into co-sleeping since he learned to roll over. He does things his way. He leads us, and not the other way around.

you who choose to lead must follow

but if you fall, you fall alone

I haven't figured out what's going on, but the past three nights the 'put in crib and shut the door' routine has been loudly protested. Not just a whine and a moan, but a screeching cry. And when I open the door and go back in (which I always do - we're not a cry it out household), his little face is red and soaked in hot tears, and he reaches for me and says "Up?" The few times I've tried to just give him his Bop back and encourage him to lay back down, he stands in the crib and reaches over the railing, buries his head into my belly and wraps his arms tight around me.

if you should stand, then who's to guide you

if i knew the way, i would take you home

I lift him, all 28 pounds of clammy-skinned boy, into my arms. He wraps his legs around me, buries his head into my shoulder so that I can burrow my face into his soft blonde hair, and he grabs at me with his strong little hands. As I begin to dance with him, he taps his fingers lightly on the back of my arm; we create our own rhythm together up there, the sounds of Darrick and Luca reading bedtime books climbing up the stairs.
 

reach out your hand

if your cup be empty

if your cup is full, may it be again

 
And there we dance, just the two of us enraptured with each other. I sing the first song that comes to me, soft and light, and it's always this one. For some reason, it's the one that comes to me as I dance with my son, and it's the song that sends him into dreams the fastest. I feel his body as it grows heavier, pulled to the earth with sleep. His fingers stop tapping and his arms sink to his sides, and I put him down gently in his crib. Never wishing this new routine away. Not even for a moment. How could I, when his body is so warm and his hair is so soft and his smell intoxicates me in a way only a mom could understand?
 

it's a hand me down

the thoughts are broken

perhaps they're better left unsung

i don't know

don't really care

let there be songs

to fill the air

Trying to find the Zen in Exhaustion.

A new baby will tire you out. I probably don't need to say that, but some people have never HAD a new baby...or have but it's been awhile and mom/dadnesia has set in. So you may not know just HOW tiring it can be. And the answer to that question is...it can be VERY tiring.

Before Luca was born, people were all, "Get sleep NOW because when you have a baby you won't sleep at ALL!" and I was all, "Dude. Shut up. I get it." But I didn't get it, not really. And I also didn't benefit at all from 'getting sleep now' because, as it turns out, sleep cannot be saved up. The extra ice cream I ate while pregnant? In reserves. The extra sleep I got? No such luck.

Here's the thing. The newborn phase is a maddening cycle of baby waking every 2-3 hours to eat and be changed and need rocking or bouncing, followed by more eating and then some sleeping. And if you're lucky and can shut your mind and body down on a moment's notice, you too can nap throughout the day when baby does. If you are EXTRA lucky, you can do so with a sweet, snuggly, half-nekkid baby curled up in your arms all gooey and warm with a full, happy belly (co-sleeping being a hotbed of debate, let me say I realize there is data out there that would tell you not to do this for safety reasons, and obviously safety matters, but there is also data about the safety of co-sleeping and when you have a newborn and sleep it at a premium, you do what you have to do).

But if you're either not a napping kind of person (though I have a hard time imagining ANY new parent not suddenly becoming 'the napping type' when faced with the lack of sleep) OR you wish to have a life beyond baby (as in, you need to do dishes before they crust together into one large Super Dish in the sink, and you want to return some phone calls, and you need to shower before you start to REALLY smell, and maybe you have some Tivo to catch up on...) you may find yourself getting by on something close to 0-4 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period. I'd say in a day, but the term 'day' becomes sort of moot when you have a new baby, as the little time-stealers have no real sense of silly things like 'days' and 'schedules'.

What eventually happens is that you adjust. You get used to not getting much sleep, to the point where your 5 a.m. wake up call from a hungry baby is commonplace and you find yourself starting stories with, "So on Saturday I got to sleep in until 6:15...". But what's even better - what happens in the midst of the maddness and crying (baby's, your's, etc.) and sleep deprivation - is that you find little moments to treasure. I call it trying to find the zen in exhaustion, because I do, indeed, still have to TRY. Please don't mistake me for someone who is upbeat and rosy at 3 a.m., on wake-up call #2 for the evening, with a baby crying while my dog and my husband compete for the title of World's Most Obnoxious Snorer. I've been known to throw down a silent temper tantrum (silent ONLY because I don't want to risk rousing the baby who I've been trying to bounce back to sleep for 23 minutes, not because of any sort of fatigued self-control). More than once I've whispered "Come OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON, buddy! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE go back to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep?!?!" only to get a blank, wide eyed stare in return.

And then there was last night when I used the old standby, "I thought you CHANGED his diaper! FUCK! I'll DO IT. mumble mumble couldafuckintoldme mumble mumble jesus mumble 2inthefuckinmorning mumblemumble." while storming out of the room. (For the record, when I apologized this morning my husband had no memory of this outburst, having either fallen back asleep before I even got to 'diaper' OR having blocked it out for his own sanity). This, of course, was followed by me feeding, changing, and bouncing the baby, then gingerly setting him in his crib asleep, collapsing back into my SO comfortable bed, and then manically kicking my blanket off in a fit and whisper-shouting "You have GOT to be KIDDING ME! %&#^%&!!!!" as I heard him start to cry again on the monitor. Ah, the beauty of parenthood.

But...then again...there IS some beauty in all of this madness. I remember what happened once Luca was no longer waking at night to eat (which wasn't until she was 6 months old). On one hand, I kind of sort of totally relished in the solid chunk of sleep I was getting every night. I almost dared to call myself well-rested (Nevermind that Luca has always been an early riser and still demanded my full attention at 5:15 sharp each morning. Who the hell installed the internal alarm on that kid??). On the other hand, there was this kind of sadness to that chapter in her life closing. As insane as it sounds, those middle-of-the-night-or-is-this-early-morning wakings make up some of the sweetest memories of Luca's infancy, and I have no doubt I will someday feel the same about the time I spend awake and alone with Rohan.

There's something about a totally silent house, lit by just the dim yellow bulb of the stove vent and so enveloped in sleep not even the crickets are awake to sing. There is a sweetness to those moments spent in complete silence, with nothing to focus on except the hungry baby in your arms, drinking happily with eyes closed and a small hand wrapped around your finger as if he's silently reminding you to be in that moment and focus just on him. I've spent many nights in the past 2 years fading seamlessly in and out of sleep sitting up on a couch or a recliner, with a baby in my arms, ocassionally looking at the clock and being surprised that an hour passed since last I looked at it. I've also spent many nights trying to keep myself awake while nursing, the TV on some baby show I've seen 13 times before (spoiler: she ends up with a c-section) or an old episode of Cheaters (spoiler: he's cheating, and beating him/the other woman over the head with a shoe will just make you look stupid when the host does his voice-over update and says you took him back).

They're moments I sometimes bitch and moan through, and moments in which I wish for nothing more than my down pillow on my cheeks. And they are also moments I wouldn't trade for another 10 or 20 or even 100 minutes of sleep a night, because they are so fleeting.

Since returning to work a few weeks ago, Romo and I are struggling with breastfeeding. He's taken to the bottle like a champ...a bit too much so, to the point where he prefers it to nursing. I can't entirely blame him, as my supply has always been this side of abundant, and the bottle is instant gratification on an empty tummy. Add to the fact that I'm not there for him to nurse on demand from during the day and you get a baby who sometimes cries when I try to feed him. When it's 3 a.m. and the whole house is sleeping save for you and the hungry baby, you don't let him get to wailing. Instead, you pop a bottle of expressed milk in his greedy little mouth and wish you weren't so tired since now you know you have to pump after he's back in bed. It's been hard to deal with, emotionally, because of course I keep thinking "If only I was at home, this wouldn't be happening." But it's something we're working through.

And on the flip side of it, it has meant that my husband (who happens to be a STELLAR example of a Dad) has been helping out at night by running in to grab Romo and give him a bottle instead of me waking to attempt to nurse him or give him the bottle myself. He actually offered to do all the night feedings, since he's home with the kids for the summer (I wasn't being sarcastic before when I called him stellar), and I have to get up for work in the morning. And one would think this would THRILL me beyond belief because while he does that I get to slide deeper into the pillows and get back to dreaming.

Instead, I've found myself having an odd and unexpected reaction: I miss the 2 a.m. feedings. I miss sitting down with my nursing pillow and my hungry baby and watching him go from crying and grunting in hunger to drowsy and content as he fills his belly. I miss sitting on the yoga ball bouncing him, kissing his sweet cheeks and feeling his body relax as he drifts into baby dreamland. ::sigh::

You may be asking yourself, "What the hell is wrong with that girl?!?!" And, if Rohan wakes 3 times tonight like he's been doing lately, I may ask myself that very same question and come post a retraction to this sentimental hogwash. But for now I am focusing on the Zen in Exhaustion...because I know from experience that this phase in life will be over long before I want it to be, and that I'll be remembering it fondly in a few months' time. And rather than just remembering how sweet and magical those moments alone with baby were, I want to experience how sweet and magical they are, right here and now.

Dealing.

About every 10-14 days, it seems like we have a really bad time of things as far as Rohan's concerned. He was actually in a good mood and slept decently yesterday, but early in the day I noticed his spot yellowing. I expected a blister, but it never really materialized. Then last night we struggled to get him to go to sleep. Everytime I'd set him down, his eyes would pop open and he'd start grunting at us. I ended up snuggling next to him on the couch from about 9 - midnight. From then on until 6 when Darrick woke for work, I don't think he slept more than 30 minutes at a stretch. He was up from midnight until about 2, then several times after that. I stopped looking at the clock because it was making me feel more tired and frustrated.

At 6, Darrick took him for a bit, but at that point he was crying these shrill cries and arching his back. We gave him some colic tablets and I bounced him on the yoga ball and he mostly calmed down. But here it is almost 1 pm, and he's yet to sleep more than 20 minutes at a time all day.

I'd be lying if I told you I haven't cried my share in the past 12 hours. Between sleep deprivation and worry, there have been some tears shed. It's not so much me I worry about, since I can live on little sleep and be just fine (college proved that to me). It's him. Babies need sleep, and when he's fussing and gassy and not sleeping, I worry about what that does to him. But so far today the gripe water+Mylicon+colic tablets combo isn't doing much to get him calm and sleeping. In fact, I've had to stop typing this post twice already to soothe him back into semi-sleep.

It's frustrating. And at the same time, it feels self-indulgent to complain about it when I know there are lots of people who have it much worse. My baby will outgrow this. Not all moms who are dealing with sick babies can say that.

I think it's weighing heavier on me because I have to go back to work in just over a week. We're lucky because Darrick will be staying home over the summer, but I worry about how well he's going to handle the fussiness and sleeplessness as well. That's not to say I doubt his skills as a dad or his love for Romo. It's just to say that hearing about it and living it are different things, and it's HARD living with it when Romo's having a bad day.

And even more so, it's weighing on me because it's inevitable that Rohan is going to be in daycare in a few months. We love our daycare - an in-home place run by a woman Luca ADORES. But the stress and challenges presented by Rohan's situation are hard on ME, and I adore this kid like only a mother can. I worry about how hard it will be on our daycare provider to deal with Romo's high-need days. I have faith in her and I plan to arm her with as much information and tools as possible, but I know I'm going to worry and feel guilt over not being there to comfort him on the bad days.

We're going to see a pediatric dermatologist this afternoon. I'm hopeful they can give us some more information, as well as perhaps some tools for helping him when he's having a bad day.

Operation Stop with the Bop, revisited Day 2.

So, last night was an experience. Yeah. We'll go with 'experience'.

I put Luca down at 8:30, and she was quiet for all of 2 minutes. I heard crying, so I went to check on her, and she was sitting up in bed crying, Bop on her finger like one would put an olive on a pinkie as a child. SO not amused. I gave her some loves and put her back down, then headed downstairs. Two minutes later, we witnessed her (via video monitor) climbing out of bed and stomping around crying. I sent the hubs up to deal, thinking maybe she'd react differently to him.

She climbed into his arms and cried and fussed and asked to play with books and her giant stuffed turtle. He hugged her, rocked her, talked to her, and put her back into bed. She fussed for a few more minutes, tossed, turned, and eventually was out about 45 minutes after being put down. Once she was out, though, she was out for the night.

Fast forward to tonight: bedtime hit and up we went again (naptime was handled at daycare, so no update there, though I have a feeling it isn't an issue there like it is at home). I took her up, said goodnight, and left the room as usual. Again, 2 minutes later she was sitting up in bed crying. I went in to rub her back and she clung to me and lost it, sobbing in hysterics. We rocked for a few minutes, and I talked to her about how I knew she was sad and it was ok to be sad, but Bops were for babies. I asked if she was a baby, and she said, "No, big girl." So then I assured her big girls could be sad and miss the Bop, but it was time to say goodbye to it. She said ok, and we rocked some more and to bed she went.

Granted, she did just wake up, and hour later, but she's coming down with a cold and was having trouble breathing. Some more cuddles and a humidifier, and hopefully she's now down for the night.

Night 2: Muuuuch better.

Operation Stop with the Bop, revisited.

You may remember Operation Stop with the Bop, which took place way back when and was our effort to wean Luca from her pacifier. Yes, we had one of 'those' kids who LOVED her pacifier. And we were eager to wean her from it during daytime hours as early as possible, so as to avoid it becoming a never-ending bad habit, negatively impacting her speech and her teeth, etc. You can read about our experience, in three parts, here, here, and here.

Well, I have a confession: we've not entirely stopped with the Bop. You see, during the daytime, Luca goes without and we never have a problem. She doesn't get it while playing, riding in the car, out in public, or any other awake time. But we were hesitant to wean her from it at naptime and bedtime, mostly because she's been SUCH a good sleeper for us that we didn't want to mess with success, so to speak. But in recent months, I've come to the realization that it's time to break that nasty habit. I kept putting it off for one reason or another (mostly figuring it wasn't hurting her speech while she's sleeping, which was my main concern with letting her have it while awake). My latest reason was that I wanted her to get used to her big girl bed first, and I didn't want to throw two big changes at her at once. I was also worried I'd go through the trouble of weaning her from it now, only to have her regress when Andre comes along should he/she be a Boppy Baby as well.

It honestly wasn't a pressing concern for me, until we went to Mexico over Thanksgiving weekend. We knew the travel and new people would be stressful for her, so we gave some leniency with the Bop. Mostly, this just meant that she was allowed to have it in the car, something we hadn't allowed in 6 months. Well, this leniency proved killer, and we came away from that long weekend with a toddler who started to ask for 'Boppy' when it was bedtime, and to talk about it outside of that time. We'd ask her if she wanted to go 'night-night' and she'd say "Yes. Boppy." This was not going to work.

So, today is the day. I KNOW for a fact she naps without the Bop at daycare, and I was determined that we'd follow suit at home. So I followed the advice I've seen and heard mutliple times: I gave her the Bop, but cut off the smallest piece of the top, so that it woudln't have quite the same sensation when she sucked on it. I tucked her into bed for naptime, left the room, and turned on the video monitor.

What ensued was:
- fussing
- mumbling about 'Boppy'
- whining about 'Boppy'
- climbing out of bed to get books
- climbing into bed, reading books and talking about/to 'Boppy'
- throwing books and then crying while pounding the door

I went up to get her, and she asked for her crib. I took her into the 'baby room' and put her down, with the mutilated Bop, and left the room. This time, what ensued was simply 10 minutes of outright fussing.

I wasn't sure what to do. Everyone always says kids don't come with a handbook, but the truth is advice (good and bad) is everywhere out there. But I've always been one to follow my gut rather than advice...and my gut was telling me what Luca needed.

And what she needed was some kisses, some rocking, and a nice lullabye (Me and Bobby McGee, with Luca substituted in place of Bobby) and she was out in less than 5 minutes.

OSWtB, Revisited Outcome: Not too bad, really.

The Big Girl Bed

The end of the year brought some big changes for Luca, most notably her big girl room which I posted about below. It's not 100% done - we need to refinish a dresser a friend is giving us, get a bedside table, and do some other small decorating things - but it's almost there. The key addition that was central to this room was the Big Girl Bed. And, yes, that DOES go in all caps, since it's a BIG thing in her life right now.

We started putting Luca in her new bed a few days after the room was finished and had some time to air out. Sunday of last week was her first night in there, and the reviews have been mixed. The first 3 nights were definitely the hardest on all of us. As a mom, I was really proud of her for sleeping her first night in that bed, and also really emotionally mixed about herr growing up so much, and so fast. She was excited about the new bed, but too keyed up from all those toys within easy access and the newness of the room to go right to sleep. I put her down and we gave kisses and read a book, then I left her alone. Not two minutes later, she was frantically crying for me, seemingly scared. I went in and tucked her back into bed and gave more kisses, then left and went downstairs. A few minutes later, I heard more crying so I went back up to check on her. She needed a snuggle, so we sat on the floor and rocked until she was calm and rubbing her eyes sleepily. I asked if she was ready to go back to bed, she said "Nigh nigh.", and in she crawled. She rolled over on her tummy, and I rubbed her back until her breathing was slow and steady, and then I left the room. Luckily, that was it for the night, and she was out until morning.

The next two night were mostly the same, with her either calling out for me or the sound of her footsteps running across the floor alerting us to the fact she was not asleep. We call this 'mice in the attic' since she's on the 2nd floor above our den and you can hear her clear as day pitter-pattering across the room. Each night ended with me sitting on the floor beside her bed, rubbing her back until she dozed into baby dreamland.



Night 4, we had a set-back. That night, she asked to go to bed by climbing up the stairs and saying "Night night", so down she went. Ten minutes later I was up there trying to rock her to sleep, and she started playing with my hair and talking to me. With Luca, this is a sure sign she is NOT going to sleep anytime soon. So, back downstairs we went, where she played for another hour before tiring out enough to go to bed without too much of a fight.

Night 5 we had a breakthrough. I put her down after we kissed goodnight, and when I left the room, that was it. No crying. No calling out. No mice in the attic. Just sweet silence as she slept all night in the Big Girl Bed.

Friday night, Night 6, my mom watched her so we could go out to celebrate our anniversary. Aaccording to mom, Luca was asking to go to bed at 7:30 (a full hour before her normal bedtime), and went down without too much of a problem. Of course, being the doting Grandma, my mom averted any problem by reading her a book and then rubbing her back for a long while.

And then came the weekend. By now going to sleep in the Big Girl Bed at night was working pretty well, though she still fought it a bit on Saturday night. But even better...she NAPPED in the BGB not once, but TWICE! This was something we were not pushing, figuring the distractions of the room in daylight would be more than she could bear, but sure enough she managed to go to sleep both Saturday and Sunday in the middle of the day!! I'm SO proud of her, as this is just one of the many big transitions she's facing in the coming months. She's on her way to potty-training as well (has used her potty twice, sits on it regularly, and has recently started trying to take her pants off - which she prounounces as 'auf' and reminds me of a little Heidi Klum - and resisting diapers). Pretty soon my baby will be all traded in for a KID!

She found the escape hatch.

Earlier this week, I was dropping Luca off at daycare and her nanny (for lack of a better word I call her the nanny, since it's an in-home place with only 4 kids total) mentioned that Luca had picked up a nasty new habit. In nanny's words, "My sweet Luca, who never causes a problem and always goes straight to bed when I put her down, has figured out how to escape." Apparently she is no longer constrained by the pack and play, and has started climbing out of it and silently destroying the room: emptying drawers, pulling out extra blankets and pillows, and undressing to her diaper to come out and say hi to nanny.

I laughed when she told me the story, because what else can you do? Luca LOVES her crib and sleeps so well in it, so I wasn't worried about her at home, I told nanny.

Famous last words from a first time mom. Fast forward to today, when I was sitting on my laptop working and my world suddenly changed. Luca's always had a way of letting us know when her naptime is over. She sleeps with a few stuffed animals of her choosing, and typically when she wakes she alerts us by throwing the stuffies on the floor. Her room's on the second floor of the house, so the thump is loud enough to alert us that she's ready to get up.

It went a little differently today. It was something like:

"thump" (blue stuffed bunny)
"thump thump" (brown bear and gray bear)
"THUD" (uh...what was that?!?!)

So I run up, open her door, and there is Trouble, standing in the middle of her room, shirt off and hair disheveled, grinning at me like a wild woman. I couldn't help it...I just started cracking up laughing. What else can you do? I asked if she climbed out, and she smiled and said "Yeah!". I asked if she had any ouchies, and she said "Yeah." and pointed to a little red spot on her arm and another on her cheek. I asked if she was ok, and she dissolved into a fit of laughter and fell over onto the floor.

She is the CUTEST pile of trouble I've ever met. And it looks like Daddy's going to be setting up that big girl bed much sooner than we expected!! I tried to get her post-escape conversation with me on video, but couldn't capture it all, which was fine because the resulting video I did get was pretty cute and entertaining anyhow.



Eeeek.....who let the toddler in the house???

Happy 14 Months!

Today Luca turned 14 months old. The past month has been a whirlwind of activity and new words from her. She's getting so tall and active. It seems like she went from being a monster-crawler to running around the house full speed in the blink of an eye.

Her biggest developments in the past month were in...well...her mouth! Not only has she sprouted several teeth (some premolars, starting on canines....) but she's also getting very verbal, which is amazing to watch happen! Her vocabulary went from probably a handful of words to being really pretty impressive. Her MOST favorite word (and object) right now is ball, which is said in a high pitch voice as 'Bah.' It's very matter-of-fact when she says it, which is too cute for words. And, on top of it, if you say to her, "Luca, where is the ball?" she shrugs up her little shoulders and goes on a mad search for a ball, calling out, "Bah. Bah. Bah." until she finds one. And then....she chucks it at your head. Ahhh...that's our kid!!!



In addition to 'bah', her other new words are 'nana' (banana), 'hi', 'wow', and 'gah'. Gah, of course, being 'God'...not because we're holy like that, but because she once tipped over in the kitchen, smacking into the wall, and SOMEONE (ok...it was me) exclaimed, "Oh God!". Which, of course, she promtly picked up on and now exclaims herself whenever she falls. Nice. Blasphemy at the tender age of 14 months. Maybe we should have listened to my Mother in law and gotten her baptised after all.

I mentioned before her increased mobility, but it doesn't come without a price. She is fast and pretty agile, but she's still sort of unstable on her feet. The air trips her sometimes (and she yells out, "GAH!"), which is why her latest nickname has become Tippy Tumbles. She tips. She tumbles. She yells out blasphemouos phrases. She's Tippy Tumbles.



The only other exciting (for us) news in Luca's world is that she has started sleeping in a bit in the mornings. Up until about 3 weeks ago, her normal wake-up time was between 5:30 and 6. Just recently, she's taken to sleeping in until 6:30 - 8, which is like a little slice of heaven for us. Nothing like not waking at 5:30 on a Saturday anymore.

Anyhow, I'm sharing some recent pictures here because, well, I think my kid's just THAT cute. Enjoy! And Happy 14 months to us!!!

Molar.

Her sleeping issue the other night?

Her first molar.

Poor kid's got a gap tooth grin to rival Madonna. And I am SO glad I didn't make her CIO the other night now that I know WHY she was awake.

Mother's Intuition and....my overall awesomeness...at play, friends.!

Soul

I could list for days the things no one tells you about being a parent. Or, even the things they DO tell you, and you rub your fat, pregnant belly smugly and think "That won't happen to US.", and then it does. When I was pregnant, I truly felt like ALL people told me about having kids was the bad stuff. The dark and sad and ugly and exhausting stuff.

What they didn't, or perehaps couldn't, tell me was that having a baby is quite literally akin to taking a chunk of your soul and placing it in the cutest possible packaging right outside of your body. And, for the first few months at least, that little chunk of soul is so close to you so often that it sort of is easy to pretend you are still one. She sleeps better next to you. Her body folds into yours perfectly. Her smile is a mirror of yours. You are separate, but she has yet to catch on and you sure as HELL aren't going to be the one to point it out to her and start on the road to her hating you and thinking you are the 'meanest mommy ever' before it's her time.

I think the point at which that little chunk of your soul becomes a separate and distinct being is different for everyone. As a mom who breastfeeds, especially, I think for Luca it took awhile to recognize that we are not the same person. The first sign she was starting to realize this came at about 3 months old, when suddenly she realized that while nursing she could unlatch, roll from side to back, look at me, smile with milk leaking down her cheek, and then roll back on her side and carry on. And, she could (and did) do this about 8,765 times per nursing session. I remember when she was first born and my mom (who breastfed 4 kids) told me that baby should be able to breastfeed in 5-10 minutes per session. At the time, this just made me feel like there MUST be something wrong, since Luca only finished in less than 40 minutes if she fell asleep while eating. Anyhow, by 3 months she'd shortened each meal to about...oh...30 minutes. That is, until she discovered that - HELLO! - I was there! Right there! Just a roll away! And so it began, Luca's realization that she and I were not one being any longer, along with the return to the never-ending nursing session.

With a face like that, though...could I really be annoyed?

It took me longer to recognize the separateness of our beings. No, really, though. I mean, on an intellectual level of COURSE I know we are two separate beings. But it wasn't until she made The Move. You moms know the one: The Move to The Crib.

For us, this happened when she was about 4.5 months old. I know, I know....moms everywhere are shaking their heads in disbelief that she slept in our room that long. And, just to get those heads shaking more vigorously, she even slept in our bed sometimes. That's right...right there in our bed. Horror of horrors. Next thing you know, we'll be buying her a pony and teaching her about liberalism and birth control.

Anyhow, I posted once before about how I want Luca to be able to embrace her Orange side for as long as possible. And part of this was letting her 'tell' us when she was ready for things like sleeping in her crib. And, much to the chagrin of the parents out there who would shake their head and wag a stern finger at us for being lax about where she was sleeping, she did indeed let us know when she was ready. And the transition, I'm proud to say, was 97% smooth. We still have our rough nights where she does not want to go to sleep. I still bring her back into bed with me sometimes in the middle of the night. But, by and large, it's been a success.

And yet, here I am, a month and a half into the whole crib experience, and I'm still adjusting. The little sprout is fine. She's happy. She sleeps like...well...a baby. And yet I find myself, night after night, creeping in to watch her breath. And when it's too dark, and I can't be sure she IS breathing, I crouch down and sneak an arm between the bars and lightly rest my palm on her back or belly, just to feel the rise and fall. It may as well be the rise and fall upon which the universe exists, as far as I am concerned. And in those moments, when the house is quiet and dark and my little bird is sleeping, safe and sound and without me to hold her (sob! I can't believe she doesn't NEED ME!), I have to remind myself that a chunk of my soul will forever live outside of my body. So I hold the warmth of her little body in my palm and I whisper "I love you so much." to her sleeping form, warm and pink and smelling of all things sweet and lovely, and I tip-toe out of her room into my bed and, like a kid waiting for Christmas, I anxiously await the morning when I can hold her little body again.

Crib Notes

We finally did it....we moved Luca to her crib.

For awhile, I had a really good excuse for not moving her. That being: she hated her crib with a passion. I'd managed only to get her sleeping in there one time, for about 4 minutes, before she awoke, realized where she was, and threw a huge fit. She was practically inconsolable. So, choosing to take the easy way out rather than face more sleepless nights, I decided to let her stay in the bassinet until she outgrew it.

She outgrew it.

A few weeks ago, she started waking at night after having slept through the night since she was about 6 weeks old. So one day, I decided to put her in her crib for her nap. 3 blissful hours later, she woke up. Compare this to her average nap time of 20-45 minutes anywhere else, and I was sold.

So, she's sleeping in her crib now. It was hard that first night. I was sad to have her so far away (well, not THAT far since our house is small, but certainly not arm's length away anymore). However, she seems to like it. I think it was her time.

Which leads me to another thought I've been pondering. I did this True Colors training for work...you answer some questions that tell you whether you are Blue, Green, Orange, or Gold. If you care, I'm Blue, then Green, then tied for Orange and Gold. Anyhow....our trainer was talking about how Orange people are impulsive and free...how they follow their hearts and are not afraid. He mentioned that if you give the test to people of all age ranges, the kids in the group are far more likely to be Orange. It makes sense: from the day they are in school, that sense of freedom and adventure is squelched. We tell them to color within the lines, to eat certain foods, to sit quietly in class. So, as we age, we lose our 'Orange' and become more Blue or Green or Gold.

This isn't entirely bad. We can't very well have millions of adults running around saying and doing whatever they want because they never learned how to self-monitor.

However, when he was saying this, all that guilt I had (and moms can ALL relate to the guilt that comes with just about every decision you make about your kid) I had about her sleep habits faded. The guilt over letting her sleep in bed with me. The guilt over napping on the couch with her for 2-3 hours off and on while she nurses. The guilt over not forcing the crib on her or not letting her 'cry it out'. All gone. Why torture myself over these things, when she has the rest of her life to learn to abide by society's time clock?

So what if she didn't sleep in her crib until she was almost 5 months old? So what if I nurse or rock her to sleep every night and most naps? So what if, when she cries, I pick her up and hold her? One day, my little girl will grow up. She'll learn to keep her hands and feet to herself, to not speak without being called on, to color within the lines. And so, for now, I will rejoice in letting her Orange side shine.