Molly - In the Dark
I'm writing this entry right before bed so it's going to be brief. Last night was rough. My baby (I still call him this even though he's turning 2 on Sunday) seems to be going through one of those developmental leaps, announcing itself with obstinance, boundary pushing, and sleep disruptions.
He woke up around 1 a.m., which is often when he does on nights he doesn't sleep through. During his last sleep regression I got in a bad habit of climbing in the crib to cuddle and nurse him. The idea was originally to make sure he stayed in his nursery, but of course he came to expect it, and it doesn't send a good message to not just let his bed be his bed.
Last night he was awake for about 2 hours when all was said and done, and it was a fight to not nurse him. I sang his lullaby (the song Princess Garnet sings in FFIX, lol), rocked him in his chair, rubbed his back, and held his hand through few rounds of crying and agitation. These nights are hard, but there's something kind of amazing about being in the pitch black, mostly silence for hours. I can think, pray, and do the stretches I rarely take time to do after running.
The most interesting thing about the experience, though, is that I realized how rare it is as an adult to actually train one of your basic senses to be keener. With blackout shades and the sound machine on, I can't see what position my son is in, and I have to really listen to suss out what kind of breathing or fidgeting he's doing. It's so common to talk about self-imrovement in habits or hobbies: I want to be a better cook, I want to be more organized, etc. But how often do we face situations that make us think, "I need to work on hearing better"?