This is a photo of my bedroom. I sleep on the far side of the bed, a bassinet tucked neatly beside me. I love having Wyatt so close by, just within arms reach throughout the entire night. Jackson was out of our room and sleeping in his crib by 6 weeks of age. It certainly made for a more exhausted mama there for awhile, but since we committed to sleep “training” him (not at six weeks, more like 5 months) he has always been, and continues to be an amazing sleeper in terms of putting himself to sleep and not fighting bedtime. I love the ease that comes with our nighttime routine with Jackson. He knows that we brush teeth, read a story, have a hug + kiss, and then he settles down for sleep while I leave the room and go about my usual business. I contribute a great deal of this success to his comfort level in terms of his crib from an early age.
Wyatt will reach 11 weeks of age on Tuesday, and I just can’t come to terms with him leaving my room. He has been napping in his crib regularly, twice a day, on a regular schedule. I noticed that he was showing signs of sleep around 10 AM daily, so I decided to swaddle him and lay him down one day, and was amazed when he silently put himself to sleep. He does the same thing between 2-3 PM daily, and every time I swaddle him, give him a paci, and he puts. himself. to sleep. I didn’t even know that was a thing at this age, but apparently he is an angel and I am blessed with the most precious baby ever in all of the universe, and he does it, and its easy, so I’m not complaining or questioning, we are going with it.
Anyhow, I go back to work a week from Monday, and know that I am going to be overly exhausted at that point, and that it probably wouldn’t be a horrible idea for all of us to get really good sleep, and that to accomplish that he should probably be in his own room, but man…
He is most likely our last baby. I love having a baby in my room next to me. Every day my rational mind thinks crazy thoughts about how “tonight will be the night. I will place him in his crib and we will all be happy and merry and lovely roses rainbows and butterflies atop purple mountains and world peace!” Then, bedtime comes and I nurse him, swaddle him, and place him right next to me in his lovely bassinet, thinking that “tomorrow is the night, there is no way we are ready for this, if he sleeps in his crib tonight the world. will. end.” It’s a classic tug-of-war over here. Who knows when he will make it to his crib.
When he does start sleeping in his crib, I will have to come to terms with the fact that I will most likely never have a tiny baby tucked in next to my bed ever again. It all comes back to the “ache.” I have said before that I would love to have 152364846 babies. I love them so much when they are little. I can’t afford 152364846 babies, and I don’t want 152364846 teenagers, so we are very likely keeping it at two (don’t get your hopes up grandpa!). I could have 152364846 babies, but still ache for “just one more.” I don’t think that ache will ever really go away. I am going to be old and wrinkly and gray, and still aching for “just one more” baby. I won’t love our two any less - they are amazing and perfect, and they are more than fulfilling, and make our family so much better. But at the same time, I don’t think that ache ever really goes away.
Tonight, at 9:00 PM I swaddled my baby, placed him in his crib and rubbed his sweet little head. It has been an hour since he put himself to sleep, and I am going about my usual business, almost ready for bed myself. I may make tonight the night, after all he is already in his crib. The crazy hormonal-new-mom-of-a-final-baby side of me suspects that I might just go in there and scoop him up only to place him neatly in his bassinet right next to me. Sometimes we just aren’t ready.