Some not so unbiased advice

When you are pregnant every man and his dog wants to give you some precious nugget of advice. When you have a newborn baby that number doubles. And when you have a non-sleeping baby that number can be multiplied into oblivion and back again. And let me tell you, almost none of it is useful.

Are you a kind and caring friend, family member, workmate, acquaintance or total stranger on the street about to give the parent of a non-sleeping baby your two cents? Let me give you some advice. Don’t! You don’t know what you are taking about, you can’t know what you are talking about and the person you are about to bestow with your obviously insightful words of wisdom probably hasn’t slept in months and may well punch you in the face. And so they should.

Unless of course you have had a non-sleeping child yourself and somehow managed to make them sleep. In which case we want to know all your tricks, all your insights, all your middle of the night (eyes barely open baby screaming for the third time this hour brain not functioning considering walking out of the house in pajamas and never coming back) secret manoeuvres.

This information is useful, or at least gives us hope. And hope is the only thing keeping us from running screaming from the house in the middle of the night. That and the complex web of locks and latches that is just too difficult for our fried brains to contemplate at three in the morning.

Useful information and hope was something I was expecting (not unreasonably, I think) when I spoke to my long time GP about Luca’s sleep issues. Instead what I got was a slightly condescending smile, a recommendation to try control crying (which I explained I had already tried and had not found useful) and an exclamation ‘You’re not doing anything stupid like letting him sleep in your room, are you?’

Now call me Pinky McKay (a whole other story), but I would’ve expected GP’s today to be a little more open-minded and unbiased. And this one’s a woman.

What if I was co-sleeping with Luca? God forbid if I was bed sharing. Probably the fact that I occasionally practice a little baby wearing would’ve been enough to have her send me home with the latest copy of Save Our Sleep.

Now my search for a sleep theory has resulted in a new search. The search for a new GP. Preferably one with a little insight and understanding.

Sayonara Dr Wheeler. Let’s hope all your children learnt quickly.

He slept, she slept, they all slept…finally!

Today I am so ridiculously excited. For the first time in living memory, Luca slept through the night. This meant that I also slept. Yes that’s right, I SLEPT! Sweet, semi-unbroken sleep. A whole seven hours of it. Bliss!

Along with many other things in my life, this blog has been sadly neglected due to large upheavals and a total, unflinching lack of sleep. So here’s a little back story…

A few months ago I read about a book called The No-Cry Sleep Solution by Elizabeth Pantley. Given my previous efforts had all turned out to be the Much-Cry We Will Taunt You With the Long Distant Memory of  What Sleep Was, I decided to buy the book. Actually reading the book ended up being harder than buying it (I still have not finished the novel I started in the weeks before I had Luca and that was almost eight months ago).

Pantley’s book claims to be a midway point between the two major sleep theories – Control Crying or Cry It Out and the absolute opposite, hardcore Attachment Parenting (responding to your baby each and every time they make a peep). This seemed perfect for me as I had tried both and had success with neither.

When I did finally get around to reading the book (after a truly hellish period of non-sleeping) I found that many of the suggestions were similar to those I had read before; create a bedtime routine, keep things calm in the hour leading up to sleep,  good daytime naps equal better nighttime sleeps ect. Where this theory differs is how it brings the ideas of the two opposing schools of thought to work together. Pantley advocates responding promptly, using whatever means necessary (patting, rocking, feeding, taking them into bed with you) to calm your baby down so that they can go back to sleep. She tells you to do this each and every time your baby cries and cannot go back to sleep on its own. In our case this was anywhere from eight to twelve times a night, every night. Once your baby is sleepy (but not asleep) you put them back into their cot. If they cry (which Luca did) you repeat the process again and again until they fall asleep without your aid.

This is not an easy solution. It’s work. Hard work. You don’t get to put your baby into their bed and go make a cup of tea while they cry themselves to sleep. You get up and you do whatever you need to do for however long it takes.

For fifteen days straight I followed Pantley’s advice to the letter and for fourteen nights straight Luca woke his usual eight to twelve times a night. During the day his naps became longer, they doubled and sometimes tripled in length, and it became easier to get him to go to sleep. He was happier and better rested but at night absolutely nothing changed. Nothing!

This was crushing. It felt endless. Sleep in forty five minute snatches is not really sleep, it’s torture. You get to taste sleep but you don’t get to have it. It’s dangled in front of you, waved in your face, suggested as a definite possibility only to be yanked away from you just as you are reaching out to grab it.

That was until last night. Last night I grabbed it with both hands and embraced it fully. I had forgotten what it felt like. I had dreams, crazy dreams. Dream after dream after dream until, I heard a noise, a familiar noise, but it wasn’t the noise I was expecting. It was my mobile. A message from my cousin on holidays in India. Shit! What was the time? Why hadn’t I heard from Luca? Was he tangled in his blanket? Stuck in the bars of his cot? Face down and not breathing? Or, was it just possible he was sleeping? I lasted about twenty minutes before creeping into his room and listening for breathing. And I heard it, soft and steady, and just a little croaky. Definitely breathing. But I felt his chest just in case. A steady rise and fall. Very definitely breathing. Very definitely sleeping.

Now this may have been a total fluke, a once off never again to be repeated, but I am hopeful. I figure if he has done it once he can and hopefully will do it again. It may not be tonight but I’m hoping it’s soon. Was it the book? Was he just ready? Who really knows? But here is hopefully where my investigation ends. Thank you Elizabeth Pantley! Unless of course I post again, in which case, does anyone have the number of a good sleep school? Or maybe I’ll just go back to feeding him whisky before bedtime…