ugh.

So, tell me when this gets better.

In my apparent ongoing efforts to live-blog sleep training, an update.

Not only is this difficult, it’s embarrassing. Embarrassing to admit that I let my baby cry, because part of me thinks that is SO WRONG.

How did I get this far?

For one thing, he’d worn us down. In all his efforts to resist sleep over the last several months, there were many tears. I’d become numb. Numb enough to contemplate a non-attachment type solution.

And then, there was the immediate results: the improved sleep duration. Seems like an argument FOR.

But, here’s the thing. The books promised 3 days of hell, and then, no more protests.

Apparently I need to write my own book.

Day 5, and today he cried for 45 minutes of his midday naptime, and never actually fell asleep. At first, he’d been asleep in the car seat. But I wanted to bring him home and put him down in the crib because isn’t that better for him? The crying started as soon as he hit the mattress. And didn’t let up.

However, with the increased sleep I’ve had the last few nights, my numbness has worn off.

Figuring that 15 minutes in car and 45 in crib equalled one hour (per Weissbluth — keep them in the crib the whole naptime, even if they’re not napping), I pulled him out.

I was tired. He was hot, sweaty, pissed off.

And it was one of those afternoons where my brain just wouldn’t function.

Should I put him in the car and go run some errands? Should I put him in the stroller and go for a walk? Either option sounded impossible in my low-energy state.

I put him in the exersaucer and sat next to him. He hit the lights and animals thing the requisite number of times and music began to play. He looked at me and laughed.

You still like me? You still like me.

I started to cry. Stopped. Deep breath.

Eventually he wanted out of the thing, and I tried vainly to get him to nap with me, rock in the glider, anything that didn’t require energy from me — which led to us rolling around on the bed.

He now rolls over, and over. He lifts his hind quarters in an approximation of dolphin pose. He scooches.

Mini the scoocher.

And then the eye rubbing started.

Oh no you didn’t.

Don’t make me fight you to put you to sleep again.

But, at 4:30 down he went, and within about 10 minutes, he was out. And then, so was I.

He woke up an hour later. Now it’s 5:30 p.m. His bedtime is 6:30 p.m. How is THAT going to work?

Welllll. We pushed bedtime to 7. And then he cried for half an hour. Screamed. Shrilly. It was the worst crying so far. I felt sick. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to go get him. But I kept hearing my pediatrician’s voice in my head, warning me. Once you start, don’t waffle. That makes it much worse.

Can’t waffle. Hold on. He just hates going to bed. We’re not hurting him. This has to be okay…

And then, suddenly, quiet.

I peek through the crack in the door. He’s on his side. His shoulders heave up, settle. A sigh.

This is so hard.