sleep, ad nauseum

Dear Jonah,

Last night, at bedtime, you laid in your crib and screamed FOR AN HOUR.

How does that happen? Well, as far as we can tell, you woke up at 5 a.m. yesterday, and just flat-out wouldn’t nap all day long. Oh, except for two 20-minute-ish post-nursing snoozes on my lap. You were happy happy happy (dare we say high on adrenaline?) all day.

(I imagine that when you are in college, you’ll be the guy doing stand-up routines in the dorm lounge at 3 a.m.)

By 5 p.m., you were yawning and rubbing your eyes. We fed you dinner, changed you, and read to you, but then you were wide awake again. We let you play in your jumper for another half an hour and then tried again.

At 6:45 we put you down and let you cry. You needed to sleep. We had no ideas left.

For the first 20 minutes we said, he’s angry, he’s wired, he’ll eventually fall asleep. From the 30 to 45 minute mark, your father and I sat in the semi-dark living room, TV off, listening to your screams through the adjoining wall, and doubting ourselves.

Had we come when you called too many times? Were you depending on us to rock and sing you into total sleepland again? How were you getting up the energy, the anger, to scream so loud for so long?

At one hour, your father threw the nursery door open to check on you and make sure you were okay. About two minutes later I went in and got you. Changed your diaper (was that why you were crying? — other times, these days, you barely notice) nursed you again. You fell asleep in my lap. I put you in the crib and you slept. From 8 p.m. to 6 a.m.

After you fell asleep, I started calling friends. The ones I knew were not co-sleepers. One I got a hold of repeated the adage that crying for an hour never hurt a baby, and told me that her 16 month old, after two months of perfect sleep nights where she’d just put him down and he’d roll about a bit and quietly conk out (and during which time they congratulated themselves on their excellent parenting skills, their excellent baby) he suddenly started protesting bedtime again, screaming for 45 minutes one night, then less and less on subsequent nights. And so it goes.

This morning, you were up for two hours during which time you had oatmeal, played with your toys, nursed, and then indicated you would like to be read to — by flipping over on my lap, and reaching for the pile of books on the table next to the glider.

We only ever read to you before we put you down for naps or at bedtime.

I read you a succession of your favorite books (But Not The Hippopotamus, Freight Train, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See, Snuggle Puppy, The Going To Bed Book, The Little Mouse, The Red Ripe Strawberry, and The Big Hungry Bear. You giggled and stroked my arm with your little hand.

Two books, you don’t like anymore: Goodnight Moon, and Guess How Much I Love You. Lately I try to read those to you and you grab the pages, shutting the book firmly, every time.

After the last book, I rocked you and sang a little. I put you down in the crib awake. You cried for about thirty seconds after I left the room. Then you chatted, whined a bit, and fell asleep. And you’ve been napping for over an hour now.

Thank goodness.