When you look at a new born baby fast asleep, a clean slate with no failures, no embarrassing moments, no anxiety as the clock ticks away you can understand the origin of the expression, sleeping like a baby. What this pithy expression doesn’t show is the difficulty of achieving this nirvana like state of slumber.
My daughter Angeline was a brilliant sleeper for the first six or seven weeks of her life. My wife and I were lulled into a false sense of security in those early days. “Ooo look she does indeed sleep like a baby.” Little did we know that the time would come when the Kraken would be unleashed. It started slowly. A few niggles and extended period of crying before bedtime. These grew in length and suddenly we were jiggling and bouncing her for hours every night, which of course was the wrong thing to do but we were new to this and tired, and ragged, and desperate.
We would take it in turns, tag teaming, to try and put her down. We developed a whole lot of skills to aid us in our efforts. This website says to do it in a dark room, so and so said play soothing music, an expert advises some kids need a strong routine. Cue me standing in our bedroom with the lights out, listening to Jack Johnson, her favourite, I know all the words to Banana Pancake, at precisely 20h00 every night. One professional suggested wrapping the baby up tight and then making a sound like and untuned television into her ear. Apparently this recreates the sound in the womb. I tried it. I was desperate. I’m sure it works for some. I just felt ridiculous.
Some of the advice did help. She was and still is a child who loves a rigid routine and she went to sleep much quicker in the dark. Who knew?
Now she is big, well bigger. She puts herself to sleep but she still wants me to read to her every night, which is one of the great pleasures of my life. Sometimes she lies nestled in the crook of my arm listening intently. Sometimes she lies with her head at the bottom of the bed and her legs dangling in my face kicking the book while she strokes the dog but always she says the same thing, “Just a few more pages.” And who can resist that?
The jiggling is gone. The reading will go too one day but these moments are precious to me. I will never forget her eyes, already awake and alert, as she was pulled from her mother’s womb. I will not forget her face as she finally surrendered to slumber each night, exhausted but with a determination that said, tomorrow I will beat you and stay awake forever. I hope that I have given her my best parts and that she will go into the world and fashion it anew.
