There are exhausting days, and then there are really exhausting days.
It appears as though I have passed down my insomnia to Nathaniel. Family and friends who come over are perplexed that I have a newborn that doesn’t sleep very much. He can’t seem to nap for over an hour, which leaves me utterly drained. Sometimes, he can be up throughout the entire morning—and I have to wonder how this little guy is able to have more energy than me.
Feeling sorry for the sleep-deficient fella, I’ve made every effort to try to coax him to sleep—walking around the house with him dozens of times, even holding him in my arms for an hour, two hours so that at least one of us gets his much needed sleep. (Thanks to my sweet Nathaniel, I’ve lost most of my pregnancy weight, barely able to sleep and eat, carrying him around like dumbbells for hours on end…)
People are telling me I’m spoiling him. I’m a bit confused now. Every baby care book I’ve read so far (I’ve gone through at least four now and am amazed at how many differing opinions are out there) has stressed that a baby under three months old cannot be spoiled—including the nurse who coached me and my husband on prenatal care at the hospital. The first three months are to fulfill the newborn’s every need as he adapts to the world outside of his formerly comfortable womb. Doing so, they say, develops trust between mother and child and nurtures confidence in him. Yet I’m being told by many to leave him crying in his crib so that he can learn not to be so “naughty.”
This afternoon—I tried to do that. I watched the clock, let him cry for 10 minutes in his crib before I went to him (it’s hard when his face turns all red, his nose begins to get clogged, tears run down his face, and his crying becomes so intense that it almost goes silent for several seconds). When I entered the room finally, I didn’t even have to hold him: all I had to do was hover over the crib and touch him, and he stopped—instantly. People would have described this as “manipulative”—that he wasn’t hungry, didn’t need a diaper change, so all he needed was to be close to me. But isn’t needing to be close to me a need too? What else does Nathaniel have for comfort? All he needed was for me to be there. What am I to do? Experienced mothers, help!
When all sleep-coaxing tactics appear to have been expended, God shows his grace to the energy-depleted mother. Like I said, there are the really hard days when it feels like I haven’t had a wink of sleep nor any time to myself. But then, at some point, God grants the mother a “moment”—like a flicker of light in the darkness—enough to let the mother persevere.
The other day, the husband and I are sitting in bed conversing about our day while Nathaniel is feeding. After several minutes of feeding, Nathaniel draws himself away from feeding, and looks at me, flapping his hand at me. He then takes my finger and grips it tightly. The husband doesn’t believe it. “No, that’s just a coincidence. He doesn’t know how to do that yet.” So I let go to see if Nathaniel will do it again. He does it again two more times. After thirty seconds or so, Nathaniel returns to his feeding.
At that moment, I was deeply touched—believing that it had MEANT something to Nathaniel when he heard BOTH his mother and father’s voices together—as if he wanted to be part of that intimate moment too—time with the family.
