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Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Results (Week 6, Day 1)


As with everything else, the co-sleeper transition project seems to be most traumatic for, well, mommy. When we finally get little Maddy into some semblance of sleep in her crib, Phil and I climb into bed in the other room and turn out the lights for the first time since we've had Maddy home. We've had the lights dimmed low so that we could see Maddy in the co-sleeper and get in and out of bed easily. I've gotten so used to the light on that a dark, still room seems foreign. With the baby monitor now securely in place where the baby used to be, I turn on the screen to see my baby laying quietly in her crib.


And I lay in bed and stare at the monitor. Phil's breathing tells me he's already sound asleep - how does he do it? I used to be the one that could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Now I can't imagine closing my eyes anytime soon. I thought having her in her own room would be easier for both of us, but now I'm worried about all the disasters that could befall us in the night- what if I don't hear her cry? I've got the sound on the baby monitor cranked as high as it will go and truthfully can hear every wimper. Further, we live in a shoebox sized apartment, and even without the baby monitor I can hear every whimper in the other room. What if she's too cold? Too hot? What is she misses a feeding and starves?


The biggest irrational concern I have to face is not being able to tell whether or not she is breathing. When she is right next to me in the co-sleeper and sleeping like an angel, I can see her chest rise and fall or touch her to see if she's breathing. Viewing that same serenity on a baby monitor, I can't tell her little chest is rising and falling.


As I prefaced, I know this is irrational, and a new mommy freak out. But as I stated from the start, new parents take great pride in just keeping their babies alive in the first weeks, and a new mom associates keeping a baby alive with keeping the baby literally attached to you for most of day. The first night of this less than fifteen feet separation brings on an anxiousness and worry that I was expecting, but was still surprised at when it stared me straight in the face.


Somehow, I made it through the (sleepless, but just for me!) night without grabbing the soundly sleeping Madeline and bringing her back in our room. I woke up every time she cried (or whimpered, or coo'd) and she did not actually starve to death, stop breathing or randomly combust in any way. If fact, none of it seemed to phase her in the slightest. Maybe Mommy needs to take a lesson from Maddy on this one and stop worrying so much.