Amelia did not sleep by herself until she was somewhere between eight and ten months old. Between bouts of colic and digestion issues she became accustomed to sleeping on my chest. That is, of course, if she slept at all that night.
Being a new mother is exhausting. Being a new mother with a baby who does not sleep is especially exhausting. We called it "The witching hour." Every night around 10:00 p.m. it would start. The inconsolable screaming. We would rock and rock until about 6:00 a.m. She would finally be going to sleep at about the time Daddy was heading out to work - only to be wide awake by 8:00 a.m.
As you can imagine, her sleeping on her own came as a big relief.
Fast forward to the present. Amelia sleeps about an average of twelve hours a night. She goes to sleep without being rocked. She sleeps in her own crib. She knows what "night night" means, and often tells me "Night! Luh yuh." when I'm putting her down to bed.
Precious.
From the time she wakes up in the morning she is raring to go. She starts her day by telling me all the things she sees in her room, right before her demands for food begin. There was a time where she would wake up super early so that I would put her in bed with me and we would get a few hours of sleepy snuggle time before beginning our day. I loved that.
We have now entered the days of independence. She no longer wants me to feed her or dress her. She is tiring of diapers. The long cuddles are few and far between. She is much too busy for all that. Yesterday was no exception.
I could tell right away that I was overly emotional. As I went in her room to get her I just stared at her, wondering how this beautiful blonde haired little girl telling me about owls and pigs is the baby I brought into the world? When did she grow up?
Guilt has a way of creeping in. You start thinking about the times where the selfishness of human nature took precedence over the cries of the baby in the middle of the night. All the times I begrudgingly got out of bed, mumbling mean thoughts that stemmed from my exhaustion. I prayed over and over that she would just go back to sleep so I could as well.
As she ran around the house like a maniac I prayed a different prayer. "God, please just let her slow down. Please, just let me hold her for a while."
I tried, unsuccessfully I might add, to scoop her up and cuddle during a brief episode of Mickey or Dora. Now a days she is much more interested in wrestling than snuggling. I busied myself with work around the house and errands we needed to run, savoring the moments I would carry her from the car to the store before she started wanting "down!!!"
Last night's sleep was fitful. Our room tends to stay on the warm side no matter the setting on the thermostat. Also, I have a lot of pressing issues on my mind. These tend to grow in the evening and interrupt my sleep. I finally got to sleep around 1:00 a.m. Shortly after I heard some whimpering over the monitor. I listened to see if she was actually awake or just dreaming. The whimpers turned into full blown cries.
When your child uncharacteristically starts bawling in the middle of the night you hope it is not an illness. There is nothing worse than a feverish baby in the wee hours of the morning. I went into her room to check, she didn't feel warm. What a relief!
As I picked her up I expected her to continue crying or to want to get up and play. Instead, I felt the weight of her body increase against mine and knew that she had returned to sleep. I placed her in our bed, and instead of rolling against her daddy or sprawling in the middle, she laid her little head on my shoulder and put her hand on my face. I couldn't close my eyes at that point. I just watched my precious baby, who isn't quite a baby anymore, sleep and dream. I counted my blessings and basked in another moment that will flee too soon. I thanked God for the sweet smell of a clean baby and the feeling in my heart that only my daughter can provide.
God answered my prayer at 2:30 this morning.
