My son has been struggling with sleep. They call it the four month regression, and there have been days that I’ve felt nearly destroyed by my lack of sleep and frustration.
I was fighting his urge to stay up later.
I was fighting his desire to feel in control of his sleep schedule.
I was fighting his need to be with me.
And, he was fighting right back. He was crying and screaming, clearly frustrated that I didn’t get it.
Finally, I realized that the struggle really had become about ME. I was trying desperately to cling to that quiet time at night. It was MINE, dammit.
A few nights ago, I let go. Our sweet boy began staying up with us in the evenings.
I was so concerned with losing my “me” time.
As a result, we’ve had “us” time… almost no tears at all at bedtime… we’ve had more cuddles, more playtime, more giggles… Just more.
On Friday night, we climbed into our bed, the three of us. I clicked on the flashlight on my phone, and we made shadow puppets on the ceiling. My boy fingered his fluffy blanket, smiling and laughing as his daddy made funny shapes and told stories.
Later, as Ryan and I sat in the quiet of the house, I realized that maybe that night was the best in my whole life.
That’s a big statement, but the sweetness, the pure innocence of it… I can’t remember feeling so complete, so deeply rooted in a moment.
These people… I mean, they are the reason I am in this space and time.
If there’s a lesson to be found, it’s probably that I simply need to let go. That’s not why I’m writing about this, though.
Really, I just want to remember it.
Most of my life, I’ve written to make sense of things. Now, I don’t have the time for the deep reflection necessary for that type of writing. Instead, I just want to record these perfect, beautiful snapshots of a life I never expected to have.