ENGAGING THE PROCESS

I had one of those moments tonight- it was kind of like a mixture of “Ah-ha!” and “Elementary, my dear Watson*,” all at the same time.   After 8 months of co-sleeping, we’re trying to teach our youngest how to put himself to sleep and the process started last night.  I’ve read the “ferberize” method, made popular by pediatric sleep specialist Dr. Ferber (his book is actually a really good reference for lots of sleep related question), but following the methodology to the letter just doesn’t seem like the right fit for our little guy.   He’s sort of extra-sensitive in this really odd and funny way, so happy most of the time as he scoots his 26 pound body around with this funky three legged crawl he’s recently mastered.  It’s hilarious really, he’s this big lug of a dude, and he absolutely HATES being alone.  This probably shouldn’t surprise me, as it sounds like many men I know, but to see it play out with him this young is fascinating.  And funny.   He’s definitely a pretty tough guy until everyone goes into the bathroom to brush their teeth without him, then all hell breaks loose.   Seriously, if you leave his sight line it is nothing short of full-on wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

Whoa.  

So introducing him to his crib and teaching him to self-soothe while leaving him in the room alone was just not going to happen.   Again, we find ourselves in new territory, trying to chart it as fast as possible in order to keep everyone happy and stress at a minimum.   Here's our process:  I nurse him and put him down in his crib and then sit next to him in the rocking chair with my eyes closed (trying to convince him I’m asleep, perhaps?) and listen as he tries to figure it out.  This involves some whimpering, a few breaks of quiet, a bit of sobbing, and some weird thing where he raises his legs in the air like two flag poles and them slams them down, over and over.   Whatever works, dude.   I let him do his deal and then every few minutes stand up and go to his crib side and tell him it’s okay and we love him and he can do it and so on and so forth, but I don’t pick him up or nurse him again.  We started last night and it was about a 45 minute process, but then I did feel like he slept pretty well, and tonight it was down to like 15 minutes, which was awesome.  And sitting there, faking calm with my eyes closed as he tossed around, trying to learn to release his mind to sleep and feel okay about it, I had this funny and (for me) instructive thought.

Watching him struggle, twisting and turning in frustration, but keeping his sobbing to a minimum, I was super proud.  The first thought that ran through my head was “At least he’s engaging the process.”  He hasn’t mastered it, the process is still uncomfortable and kind of sucks, but he’s trying, living in and through and aware of every bit of it.    As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I realized what a valuable and timely lesson he was teaching me.   I swear up and down that I still feel like my college self, but some days I start doing the numbers and wonder when exactly I become “middle-aged.”  Not because I fear aging, I don’t, but because I’m starting to fall into one of those stretches where I often find myself asking, “What’s next?”  I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life when I grow up, and I think I’m starting to fall into that tailspin you get at the end of any big project.   I realize our big project is just beginning in many ways, but there is this survivalist way of shutting out life’s largr questions when you’re gestating a small life then doing your damndest to help it survive those first months. We’re slowly emerging from that fog, and as we emerge I see the barrage of questions I left on the back burner.

Which is where the Ferber method comes in:  All I can do is take a cue from my son and engage the process.   Think every day if I feel uncomfortable where I am, what I can do to alleviate that.  Ask questions about where I want to be and what I want to do.  Try new stuff.   Reconnect with old stuff.  Talk to friends.   Feel bad or sad some days and own that (I read a great blog post recently about that here).   Feel great other days and celebrate that too.  Understand that like sleep, some of the best and most healing things in life are situations we back ourselves into, led only by a lot of good will and the occasional reassurance that it’s okay, we’re loved, we can do it.**   

*Sidenote:  I have not been obsessed with a man the way I long for Benedict Cumberbatch (Sherlock.  Watch it now!) since we acquired Sixteen Candles on VHS and I could watch every move Jake made in the film, over and over.  And believe me, I did.  My heart still skips a beat on the rare occasion I spot an 80s era Porsche.

**P.S.:   For some reason in this Ferber analogy, it cracks me up to imagine me in the crib, and God or the Powers that Be in the Universe or whatever, sitting in a rocking chair and pretending to sleep while I squirm around.  I realize this is theologically re-donk-u-lous and sort of grade school, but it still cracks me up.  Because that is so often how I feel.  I’m like, wipe that smug smile off your face and open your eyes for once,  Buck-o.  And while you’re at it, could you please get me out of this 9 month onesie?  My fine, fine thunder thighs need more.   Like 18 months, at least.   Maybe even 2 T.  You feel me?