It is said that it takes 21 days to form a habit--and, indeed, it took just about that long for me to feel confident that Sweet P had made a major leap in her sleep routine: being able to go to sleep in her room, and, most shockingly of all, remain in there peacefully the whole night!
We had long settled into a routine of her going to bed with me, because shortly after her first birthday, she suddenly showed signs of having nightmares--and she became panicked when we tried to put her to bed in her room. So, into our bed of bleeding hearts she came, and she stayed there until my parents watched her during our anniversary trip to Vegas in August.
I prepped my mom to serve as a surrogate security blanket while we were gone, but, miraculously, that first night, the little darling let my mom put her to sleep in her room. The same happened the second night. I couldn't believe it--and I certainly didn't expect this new behavior to continue once Mommie (aka Softie) returned home. But it did. For almost a month straight, it did.
I was giddy to have my evenings back to myself--to actually be able to do things outside our bedroom at night! And I felt quite justified in knowing that our often-questioned approach of cosleeping had been right on target--we knew Sweet P would transition to her own bed when she was ready, and our trip out of town simply provided the opportunity for her to show us that she was indeed ready to move on. We couldn't wait to show up all our skeptics! But then the backsliding began.
As luck would have it, Sweet P's breakthrough came right on the cusp of my going back into the office full-time. She started waking up again in the night--sometimes repeatedly. And if such wakings occurred past midnight, into our bed she came. And slowly her waking crept up to 11:00, then 10:00, every night without fail. So here we are, back at square one, doing what it takes for me to get some semblance of sleep--and, boy, do I need every spare minute of sleep I can get, now that I have to face the public every morning before caffeine has fully entered my bloodstream.
I'm certain that my sudden absence during the day has much to do with this--and in crunching the numbers, the evidence adds up: I now am away from my baby girl for 10 of her 12 waking hours, 5 days a week, which means that in total I spend only 34 of her 84 waking hours with her every week--40% of her conscious life. Not even half. So I can understand why she wants to make up some of that missed time at night--and, even when her foot is jammed in the nape of my neck, or she unconsciously yanks my hair in the still of the night, I have to admit that I like making up the time this way, too.
I am not a very ferocious zombie.
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