Project Runway
Can you stand another post about sleep? It is, after all, my favourite subject at the moment.
The other night, Botany rolled twice sometime between 11pm and 4am- both times she managed to get her arm stuck out through the cot bar, whereupon she woke up freaked out and yelling. I ran down and scooped her up; poor baby, it did look like she gotten herself into a bit of a pickle. As I sat in the chair nursing her back to sleep for the second time, I had one of those 3am-type epiphanies. Probably because it was, in fact, 3am.
I had earlier noted that Botany only ever rolls to the left. It occured to me that she's getting her arm stuck in the bars every time because when she goes to sleep, I'm putting her down smack in the middle of the cot. Essentially, she doesn't have enough clearance to get herself over without coming up against the side of the cot. Since it is a given that at some point in the night she will roll, it dawned on me that what she needs is a bit more mattress runway to get over- but to stay clear of the bars. Well, duh, I thought. So obvious, but so hard to see when one is accustomed to doing the exact same routine night after night.
The following night, I laid her down carefully, carefully; strategically positioning her little body for optimum rollage room. And hey presto! About 1am, she rolled and stayed asleep in a happy bundle in the middle of the cot, whereupon she slept until 5.30am. In fact, I wouldn't have even known she was on her tummy except that E. peeked in on her en route while letting the dog out.
"She's on her tummy!" he announced to me when he got back upstairs.
"Is she asleep?" I muttered from somewhere under the duvet.
"Yes. But she's on her tummy!," he reiterated.
"Good," I said, ready to go back to sleep myself.
"Are you sure it's OK?! On her tummy?!" he asked.
"Yes. Yes, it's all good," I said as the dog fixed his nest at the back of my knees.
The next morning I congratulated myself for being so clever clever clever. Problem sorted, I thought, a trifle smugly. Thus bringing down the wrath of the sleep furies, who smote me with three middle-of- the night wake ups for two days thereafter, the cause of which seemed to be totally unrelated to rolling. (I think teething is becoming an issue.) Ugh. Ugh and bleeech.
The good news is that in the last couple days, Botany has now learned how to get herself back over; this seems to result in some very strange cot perambulations, such that I sometimes come in to answer her cry to find her bewildered and turned 360 degrees from where I put her down. She's so determined to wriggle around that it would almost be amusing (if it weren't so damned exhausting).
You know, prior to Botany's birth, I always treated talk of "sleepless nights" as one of those trite cliches of parenting- right up there with "your life will never be the same". The sort of thing that washes over you as something to be expected when you have a baby but which is quite meaningless until you come to discover exactly how sleepless "sleepless" can be, and that it really is nights. As in plural.
Something which I have come to find soothing is that it's happening to so many other people at the same time. Often I'll sit there in the dimly lit room at two in the morning, nursing and rocking; enjoying holding the baby while also desperately wishing I could just go back to sleep. I think about how many others are up right then, doing exactly the same thing. It's sort of nice knowing someone else is out there, awake in the dark with a child in their arms, parenting as best they can.