Last Night

I like to sleep. I don't necessarily sleep ridiculous amounts of time, but I like to sleep when it's time to sleep. Luckily, my daughter likes to sleep. Of all the parenting philosophies out there, we quickly latched onto one that helps develop good sleeping and eating habits.

After the first week of her life in a travel bassinet in a hotel room, we let Cate sleep in a bassinet in our room. I think that lasted a night, maybe two. Then Greg and I decided it was best if we showed Cate her bedroom, which is only separated from our bedroom by a bathroom. So close we didn't even need a baby monitor to hear her.

Since that night when she 10 or so days old, Cate has slept in her own bed. (That translates into a portable crib if we're in a hotel or something.) EXCEPT for a couple nights in March when we were visiting my sister and her husband in Bloomington and the following weekend when we were visiting my mom in Louisville, and both times Cate acted furious about being in the pack-and-play. I learned then why I was so grateful that she liked her own bed and had never been given the opportunity to get comfortable in mine. It was a phase, I think, because she slept great on vacation a few months later.

Anyway, then there was last night.

Let me back up: For the past couple of nights, Cate has woken up with a slight fever. I think she's just teething, which is making her lethargic and feverish. At least she doesn't seem bothered by anything more than her mouth. Anyway, so when she's cried the last couple of nights, Greg and I take turns going in there to hug her and give her Tylenol if it's been four hours since her last dose. Well, after having been up twice last night, I heard her cry again about 4:30 a.m., I think, and I said to Greg, "Just bring her in here. She can lay with me."

What the heck was I thinking?

I love my baby girl beyond any words I can put together to formulate a thought. But I like my bed, she likes her bed, and I like that she likes her bed. So, anyway, she laid on my chest for awhile, but she's really too big for that, so I laid her down next to me, between myself and Greg. She slept. And eventually I felt like I was going to fall off the bed. While that's probably a slight exaggeration, that's how I felt at 6:44 a.m.

So I readjusted, and tried to move Cate over when Greg got up. A little better. Finally she and I both got comfortable again and we slept for a couple more hours. I got up at 8:30 and she followed about 9.

I told Greg this morning if I ever ask him to bring her into my bed again to gently tell me, "That's really not a good idea." I just can't think clearly in the middle of the night. Letting her sleep with me seemed like a good idea when I hated to hear her sad cry for the third time in one night. But I should have just gone into her room and rocked her for a few minutes.

At some point during the waking moments in the hours I prefer not to be awake, I did thank God for Cate, particularly the fact she's slept through the night since she was 10 weeks old, gradually lengthening the definition of "night."