At the risk of jinxing this new routine, I have to say that in the last few weeks Hazel has started to sleep from around 9 pm to 1 to 3 am. This is a nice long stretch, and the longest stretch of the day. When she gets up, she usually is pretty good about falling back asleep relatively easily. This isn’t always the case, and I’m sure after I type this, it will no longer be the case but I’ll take that chance and document it here anyway since it’s relevant to the story.
I used to go swing dancing every Thursday night and always had a great time. Geoff has been very encouraging about me resuming it. We tried it for the first time a few weeks ago but Hazel was fussy and not soothed by being walked around in the Baby Bjorn at all.
Tonight, Geoff suggested we try again. He took a break from renovating the house so he could watch Hazel while I danced. The plan was the same as a few weeks ago. He’d walk around with her in close proximity to the dance hall so that I could nurse her if I needed to. We were getting ready to leave the house at 8:30, which is right around the time that I usually put her to bed. Of course she was fussy, and nothing seemed to soothe her. Normally, her bedtime routine is I nurse her to sleep, and that has worked like a charm for the last few weeks (of course, when anything happens for more than 3 days in a row, I think it’s the start of a new pattern). Pretty soon, fussy cries turn into loud piercing screams. I try to nurse her, Geoff changes her, we swaddle her, try to burp her, all to no avail. Above the deafening cries of an infant Geoff is trying to convince me that we need to resume life, and that I should go dancing, get some exercise and take a night off because Hazel will be fine since she’s fed, dry, and safe.
Hazel is screaming though, and I feel the full brunt of motherly guilt. Because I enjoy dancing, I’m going to put my sweet little two month old baby through a 15 minute car ride in which she will likely be screaming the entire time, and then another fussy few hours in which she won’t be happy. Dancing felt like a want, and her bedtime routine felt like a need. I felt horrible. I felt like I was putting my want above her need.
At this point, Geoff and I are both stressed, compounded by the stress of renovations. I felt bad that Geoff had taken the evening off from renovating so that I could go dancing when he would have otherwise saved the evening off for another day. I felt bad that Hazel was crying. Geoff and I kept trying to reason our way through this, all at decibals above a screaming baby that had been crying inconsolably for the last 10 minutes.
Our conversation goes something like:
“I can’t go dancing, Geoff. I feel like a bad mom. Hazel is crying because I’m going dancing instead of putting her to bed. If I put her to bed now, she’d be happy and asleep, instead she won’t stop crying.”
“Kim, Hazel isn’t crying because you’re going dancing, she’s crying because she has gas. She has no concept of you going dancing.”
“No, she’s crying because I’m a bad mom, and I’m putting my wants above her needs. I don’t need dancing, but she needs sleep,” I say as I hold Hazel and fruitlessly rock her back and forth to soothe her.
We go back and forth like this for a while. And I admit, things got a little tense when all of a sudden the piercing infant screams were interrupted by a hearty “Burrrp!” And then all was silent.
Two seconds later, Hazel’s eyes are closed and I hear the rhythmic sound of her breathing and snoring.
I apologize to Geoff, tell him he was right, and grab my dancing shoes. Thanks Geoff, for helping me navigate through this motherhood business.
(Geoff – the picture attached was sent to Kim as a text to assure her that indeed, Hazel was sleeping happily on my chest. )