Little Jack's CornerThe Life & Times of Jack-Evan and Family

WRITTEN ON OCT. 1, 2009

Two nights ago I did something I never thought I woiuld do. I put my 17 month old co-sleeping, breastfed, feed-on-demand firstborn baby in his crib. It was a little after 4 am and he had been up all night, crying to nurse (we’re in the middle of weaning) and having temper tantrums. These nighttime jags have been going on for well over 3 weeks now, every night. ALLL night. We had been losing so much sleep it was ridiculous. What was strange was that even when he was a newborn we never had troubles at night with Jack-Evan. He’s always been the perfect sleeper, never even crying a bit at night!

Something had to give.

And give it did. You can read about the entire experience here. But if you’re just browsing and don’t care to read deeper, here’s the short form – my son is weaning since I’m pregnant with #2 and began to dry up. Daytime weaning is pretty much done, but night time weaning is a booger. He’s been waking up every 15 minutes begging to nurse. After a 3 hour final “battle” I picked him up, walked into his room, put him in his crib at 4:15 am (two nights ago), and there he stayed until 8:30 am. Cry? Oh yes. He howled like a pack of wolves under a full moon for 2 whole hours.  I cried about that long too.

But as I said, something had to give.

Yesterday morning, upon gathering my very-happy-to-see-mommy son from his crib, I knew that our family situation was about to change forever. Co-sleeping was never something I planned to last permanently (heaven forbid we still co-sleep in high school!), but still, he’s only 17 months old now. He’s still my baby…my first born…my current only. My heart.

Yet it was time. He was no longer happy in our big king size bed. He was getting very little sleep, Mommy was getting very little sleep, and poor Daddy (who gets up at 5 am for work) was the most unfortunate of all of us. My mommy instincts told me it was time to move on in life and that Jack-Evan was ready for his own space.

By himself.

When my husband Kevin arrived home from work last night, I had a talk with him over dinner about the changes that needed to take place. He was completely on board with it all (especially since it meant he would get a full nights rest again soon).  Plus we both hated to see our little boy so unhappy!

Later on, when it was time for bed, we gathered Jack-Evan up, gave him his bath, brushed his teeth, put on his pajamas, read him a story….

Then laid him in “Jack’s new bed!”. We also handed him the “new NU NU” (what we call a bottle of milk…since Jack-Evan called nursing “nu nu”).

Beside his crib was a blow up mattress and my own pillow where I planned to sleep (for at least a week).

Just as I thought, Jack-Evan threw a huge tantrum. But contrary to my other thought, this one only lasted 30 minutes! As I lay there on the floor in the dim Winnie-The-Pooh nightlight glow, I ignored my screaming son, with just an occasional ”Mommy’s here, Mommy loves you” to reassure him he wasn’t alone. It was hard, but at least with each passing minute I knew we were marching towards a new stage in life.

Finally the room grew quiet, with the exception of a fan we always have going for “white noise”. It was only 30 minutes into this new lifestyle change…and he was already asleep.

It took me a good 2 more hours to fall asleep. Afterall, having slept 17 months snuggled close to my child and the 9 months before that with my child snuggled inside of me, things seemed a bit odd.  But I finally fell asleep.

This morning as the 8 am sunlight streamed into the room, I heard a tiny “Mama? Maaaama?”. I turned over and there he was, looking at me through the bars of his crib.  Awake and happy.  I realized with a start that he had slept the entire night without waking.

My instincts were right….It was time for change, and we had now survived the first full night of the transition.

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WRITTEN ON SEPT. 30, 2009

Well.  I did it.

I never thought I would.  But I did.

I just. couldn’t. take. it. a.n.y.m.o.r.e.!

Last night was the worst night we’ve had since Jack-Evan was born.  Even through his 2 colds and the reflux when he was tiny, we didn’t have nights like this.

It all started out normal.  Well, about as normal as any night this month has been.  Sometime between 9 and 10 pm, our normal bedtime, we prepared for bed and laid down with Jack-Evan.  For the 5th night in a row I refused to let him nurse before falling asleep….and ohhhh what a howl he let out.  It had to be the mother of all temper tantrums.

Finally, I’m not sure how, but he managed to fall asleep, as did both of us.

And all was quiet as a mouse…until 1 am.

That’s when he woke up for the first time.  After refusing him “nu nu” (his word for nursing) yet again, he then refused to sleep.  For the next 3 hours we battled in between snatches of sleep here and there.  He wouldn’t accept anything else, not his sippy cup, no water, no bottle, no milk.  He wanted his NU NU and nothing else would satisfy.  At no point did we get more than 5 minutes of sleep at a time last night.

Mommy just wanted sleep and no more sore bosoms.

Battling between my intuition and my logic, I refused to let him get on up to “play”.  After all, wouldn’t that be considered “rewarding” him for waking up and throwing temper tantrums?  I remembered all of the “words of advice” I’d read over the years about how you should hold your child, rock him, sing songs, comfort him, and show him how much he’s loved – and POOF!  - all would be well.

Weeeellll…all was not well.

My son is not one for basic comforting when he’s upset.  Touching him during a tantrum or howling mode only makes him angry.  Rocking will not suffice because that involves touching.  And singing sweet soothing songs?  Fuggitaboooutit!  Any sound that came out of my mouth, at any point, made him scream at 500 decibels louder than my own voice was.

So there we were, mom & son, battling in a huge king size bed in the dark, catching short snatches of sleep here and there.  I would lay him down in the middle, he would pop back up.  I would pull my shirt down, he would try to pull it back up yelling NU NU!!! at the top of his lungs.  He would pound my chest, I would hold his hands and lay him back down.  Back up he popped.  A few times he climbed on Daddy, hoping Daddy would wake up and force Mommy to comply to his wishes.

Daddy woke up, opened one eye, turned over and pulled the covers over his head.  But that’s about it.

By 4:15 am I had about all my frazzled mommy nerves could take.  And I did it.  Something I never in a million years thought that I, as a semi-attachment, breast-feeding, co-sleeping, easy going, baby-wearing parent, would do.

I picked up him, walked to his room, placed him in his crib, said goodnight, turned around….and walked out.

As I laid down, the house reverberated with my poor little son’s pitiful howls.  I knew he was safe.  I knew there was no danger.  Yet my heart about gave out on me.  Never in my life had I thought I’d be on a mission to just let him “cry it out”.  My mind raged with thoughts of scarring my son for life because of what I had just done.  Would he ever forgive me?  Would this ruin any chances of him ever living a normal existence?  Would he end up in therapy one day uttering to his psychologist from a couch, “Why yes, there was this one horrific moment in my childhood when it all started…”

But that’s exactly what I did.   I just let him cry it out.   As I pulled the covers over my head, I half dozed for the next 2 hours half while listening to my firstborn’s wails.  The wails of a 17 month old child who had never slept a night further than 6 inches from me. Nevermind that Jack-Evan’s room door is only 18 inches perpendicular from ours.  At least Kevin was able finally able to get an hours rest before heading off to work, considering that Jack was now crying in another room instead of directly into his Dad’s right ear.

Finally, by 6:30 am, I suddenly realized the house was quiet.  Slowly I crept out of bed, tiptoeing, lest any small floor creak would send Jack-Evan into banshee scream mode again.  Peeking out of our room door and into his, I saw his little tiny tired frame, sitting up on his pillow, staring out the window.  He was, at least, quiet now.

I crept back to bed and laid down, falling asleep until 8:30 am when I heard a tiny voice quietly utter “Mum Mum?”.  I hopped up, ran into the room to my baby, picked him up and enjoyed a 5 minute bear hug from his tiny arms.

I could sense a new era was already dawning in our development as a family.  It was a change I wasn’t emotionally prepared for, yet I had always known the day would eventually come.  My gut instinct let me know it’s finally time.

Tonight, we begin a new bedtime routine, one which involves separate beds…and separate rooms.

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WRITTEN ON SEPT. 29, 2009

The past month has been horrendous!  We’ve been trying to wean Jack-Evan from daytime breastfeeding since the beginning of September. He’s nearly 17 months old now, and although I had planned to go longer, my body is just giving out.  Since we learned of baby #2 a couple weeks ago (Sept. 15), I’ve also begun weaning him from nighttime feedings (we co-sleep). It’s just not in me to produce enough energy to make a new baby and to keep nursing a toddler. I’m giving out…drying up…withering away. Or at least, well, it feels like that. Plus it’s beginning to hurt.

The daytime weaning is semi “ok”. Jack still cries a bit when I deny him, but not as loud or as often anymore as he did in the beginning.  A few weeks ago, you would have thought the world just ended based on the howl he would let out upon hearing “no!”.   Now, however, it’s the night time that we’re having troubles with. For the past few weeks, Jack-Evan has been waking up more than 4 times per night – every night! – crying for “Nu Nu” (his word for nursing).  Of course, when I deny him, it gets reeeealllly bad.   Then he’s up, trying to crawl over the king size bed, bopping his poor daddy in the nose, and refusing to go to sleep.  He can’t be comforted, he can’t be consoled, he won’t be touched.  All he wants is his nu-nu, and he can’t understand why I’m no longer giving in…especially since he’s demand fed his whole life.

I’m just tired.  Kevin’s tired (he gets up at 5 am to head to work).

Jack-Evan is tired.

Something has got to be done.

Soon.

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