To sleep: perchance to dream

So yes… we’ve had a pretty rough month in the Rowan-Campbell household when it comes to sleeping.  Our darling daughter Gwyneth went through quite a transition when she threw that Sousy away, and we are still trying to help her self-soothe and get some sleep.

I must say, the past two weeks HAVE been better.  Little did I know that our method of “sleep training” would stir up such controversy!

I really had no idea that there were such varying opinions on the matter of infant sleep.  Many of my friends were astonished that I would actually PUBLISH on Facebook that I was using the Ferber Method of sleep training.  “You’re brave to admit to that publicly,” one friend wrote, “but I’m in your corner.”

Another confessed that she and her husband used a sleep training method with all four kids, but didn’t tell any of their friends.

So what gives?  I had to learn more.

And learn I did.  Wow.  It just so happens that at the same time we were starting our sleep training with Gwyneth, the Moby Wrap Facebook page posted an interesting graphic – with interesting response!

Now honestly, I thought most of the conversation would centre around not using diapers – there ARE people who don’t, but that’s a discussion for another day – but no.  The overwhelming discussion surrounded the first bullet – having baby sleep in your bed.

Wow.  There are some NASTY people online who apparently like Moby Wrap, but still behave like they’re on the playground in grade one.  I couldn’t believe the comments flying between both camps – the co-sleepers and the non-co-sleepers (for lack of a better term).

We certainly tried several types of co-sleeping.  We started with Gwyneth in a bassinet next to our bed when she first came home from hospital.  But as you might imagine, after three months of sleeping in a busy NICU ward with lights on, bells and beeps and alarms going all night, and nurses bustling about, sleeping next to us in a dark, quiet room was not her cup of tea. 

So, we moved her to the crib and I slept on a twin bed next to her.  This also had mixed results.  She still wanted lights on – and even dim lighting makes it impossible for me to sleep – and we actually played the radio or music all night long for her, as she couldn’t handle the silence of small-town Fergus (where were the crazy kids who annoy us at the school next door on those nights?!?!?).

I have also tried having her in my bed, never for the night, but for naps.  She really doesn’t enjoy this too much. 

So I found the mudslinging amusing.  There were lots of good points on both sides of the argument.  One mom wrote, “All four of my brothers and sisters and I co-slept and we’re fine.”  Others posted links to various arguments in favour of both crib-sleeping and co-sleeping.  Some were over the top – one mom wrote, “This article basically tells you why it’s cruel to put your child in a crib.”  Which is funny, because I read the article, and it didn’t really say that… well, unless you're a cave woman and worried about wild dingoes eating your baby.

I think this mom summed it up nicely:  “There are few groups of people as judgy as moms. Read up on what you want to do, use your own judgement, make YOUR decision and let everyone else do the same.”

And so, that’s what we’re doing.  Gwyneth still takes at least twenty minutes to settle at night.  And last night, I admit I gave in and rocked her to sleep.  Honestly… I kinda like rocking her to sleep.  Because at the end of the day, I realize that soon enough she’ll be thirteen and telling me she doesn’t need a mom.

Might as well enjoy being needed while it lasts.

What charm can soothe her melancholy?

This month’s issue of Reader’s Digest Magazine (September 2012) is devoted to motherhood.  It was both entertaining and sobering to read through the different articles therein – I could relate to many of the truths, and laughed out loud at some of the anecdotes.

One aspect in particular caught my eye, as it relates to several blog topics I have tucked away for future writing.  It was a chart entitled “Parenthood’s hot-button topics,” written by Anita Lahey.

The chart is arranged to analyse the pros and cons of alternate theories in parenting – things like co-sleeping vs. crib sleeping, cloth vs. disposable diapers, and thumb-sucking vs. soothers.

This week our household has been gripped by the latter topic: the soother.

To say my daughter Gwyneth is headstrong is an understatement.  She is a streamlined conversion of her mother’s forthright, blunt, take-no-prisoners approach and her father’s quiet, unassailable stubbornness.  Lucky us.

She emerged from the womb against her will at 27 weeks gestation.  She was all of one pound, seven ounces, but had the voice of a full-term baby.  As one of the neonatal nurses said to me on day five, “This one’s got personality, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.”  Yeah.  Can’t wait until she’s thirteen.

Gwyneth’s safe and healthy birth was miraculous, and because of her strength, we gave her the middle name Maude, which means “battle might.”  We might have regretted that a few times.  Just last week I overhead the hubs say, “Now Gwyneth, it’s time to put Maude away.”

Gwyneth has done everything her way.  Her physiotherapist likes to say, “She’s the boss, applesauce!”  And truly she is.  She has met all her one-year adjusted milestones, but on her terms, no one else’s.  She still has never rolled over, because she thinks being on her tummy is pointless.  She gave up breastfeeding the day after her first birthday with a flourish – she stuck her soother in her mouth and kicked me.

So back to the soother – also known as a pacifier or a dummy to my friends in other parts of the world.  There is great debate amongst parents, parenting experts, and medical personnel about whether a baby should use a soother or not.  Many argue that a soother can cause dental issues, but of course, so can sucking one’s thumb.  I’ve read copious accounts of soothers interfering with breastfeeding.  And of course, there’s always that dreaded future task of getting your child to STOP using a soother.

I have relatives who had a burial for the soother and a short service to say good-bye.  Their son went around saying “Bye-bye paci” for a week after that.  Others I know have thrown it in the garbage.  I have one friend whose daughter was constantly losing her pacifier, and Mom or Dad was regularly heading to the local Target to buy another for her. 

In our case, my daughter was given a soother by the neonatal staff at Mt. Sinai Hospital in Toronto the day she was born.  As it was explained to me, babies born as prematurely as Gwyneth do not have the innate ability to suck that full-term babies have, and so a soother is used to teach them to suck, which in turn helps them to be more successful with breastfeeding.  Who knew? 

And so, against my better judgement and the advice of every nursing guide on the planet, my daughter used a soother from the beginning. 

I have both cursed and blessed that soother.

For the first few months after we came home from hospital, our daughter would fall asleep with her soother.  Then it would fall out, she’d wake up crying, and we’d be out of bed putting in her soother.  I mean, twenty times a night!   I can remember Ian saying to me, “Wow, I can’t wait until she can put that soother back in herself.”

Of course, once that happened, then the issue was feeding.  She really didn’t want to take it out to eat.  Our running joke was that our daughter was a “chain soother” – she’d take a bite of food, then a few drags on the soother, then another bite of food. 

As I have already stated, she nursed.  Her soother really didn’t seem to interfere with nursing, until that aforementioned day when she looked at me, pulled off the breast, and stuck her soother in her mouth.  It was an act of defiance.  She was planting her flag of independence.  I don’t NEED to nurse anymore, Mommy.  I have my Sousy!

That soother has been everywhere with her.  She would take it into the swimming pool with her, where other babies might try to take it from her, or she’d drop it to the bottom of the pool for Mommy to fetch.  She once lost it on a walk when she threw it on the ground and we didn’t notice.  Until we’d walked 2.5 km and she started crying.  Turns out she’d set Sousy free back at the 0.5 km mark.  That was a tedious walk home, at least until we found Sousy at the side of the road near our house.  About a month ago, she started trying to give Mommy or Daddy the soother, especially if she wanted us to stop talking.  

Personality, right?

And then, nine days ago, something miraculous happened.  Gwyneth just threw her Sousy away.

I have secretly been dreading the end of Sousy.  I really thought it would be a long, teary, drawn-out end to a somewhat unhealthy co-dependent relationship.

But for some reason, she just decided she was done.  Sousy went flying across the crib several times before I realized Gwyneth really didn’t want her soother.

Of course, I didn’t believe that could be possible.  So for the next five or six days, I kept trying to give her the soother.  No way.  I’m a big girl, Mommy.  No soother.  She found it on her change table today and threw it across the room.

Now before you get all miserly about the easy time I’ve had with the end of Sousy, I must tell you: it has come at a price.  You see, Gwyneth still needs Sousy.  She can’t soothe herself WITHOUT Sousy.  But she won’t take that soother even if I were to duct-tape it to her mouth.  Don't think I haven't thought of it.

Instead, she just stays up all night.  Every night.  We’re on night ten tonight.

She claws at her clothes.  She throws her stuffed animals across the crib with enough force to break something.  She pulls at her skin.  She crawls around until midnight saying “Uh-oh” and blowing raspberries.  But no soother.

And so, once again, I’ve reduced this issue to a crapshoot.  What’s a mom to do?

I combed through Reader's Digest, but they didn't have any tips for helping moms cope with babies who are fifteen months going on fifteen.