Whoever came up with the phrase, "sleeping like a baby" to mean that someone was sleeping well has NEVER spent the entire night with a baby.
Maggie is now 9 months old, and I've had to sleep-train her at least 7 different times; guarantee that of the 9 months she's been alive, she has probably slept through the night for maybe one month total's worth of nights. This is not so much a result of me being inconsistent as it is a result of the fact that every time I get her sleeping through the night, she seems to get sick less than a month later. She's been on three different rounds of antibiotics, and I don't know about anyone else, but when my baby is sick and miserable, the only thing I can think of to help her feel better is nursing her. It's an analgesic, and when nothing else works to calm her down, it always does.
A couple of weeks ago, she had a ridiculously high fever (103 F), and no matter what I gave her or tried to do, it wouldn't come down ALL day long. So, Steve and I decided to be safe, rather than sorry, and take her into the ER (I sure miss having a walk-in clinic in town). I always feel nervous taking my babies in to the doctor, because half of the time, the doctor and nurses treat me as though I'm just a paranoid mother taking my baby in for nothing, and the other half of the time, I feel as though they're judging me for letting my baby go for that long without taking her in. (I know. Paranoid much?)
This last time, however, we took her in, and the nurses and doctors all acknowledged that, yes, it was a pretty big deal to have a fever that high for that long. So, after much poking and prodding (and, yes, nursing from me to help her feel better in between treatments and tests), they diagnosed her with influenza and ear infections, and after giving her a powerful shot of antibiotics and a couple of prescriptions, they sent us home.
At first, I was kicking myself that we had added to our overwhelming mound of medical debt by taking her in for something that could probably have waited till the Dr.'s office was opened the next day, but when Steve researched the flu this year and found out that 29 children had died from this same strain, I realized that we truly had followed the Spirit in trying to find out what was making our daughter so miserable.
And now that we had found out what was wrong, it was up to me to try to help her feel better. So, once again, I began nursing her to sleep for the next few days, and every time she woke up in the night, I would rock her and nurse her back to sleep. Did it make it a rough transition when I had to (yet again) re-train her to go to sleep without nursing? Yes. Did it make for a rough week when she was waking up and wanting to be nursed five or six times a night? Absolutely. But it does make me feel better that I was doing everything I possibly could to help my sick daughter feel better, even if it wasn't sticking to the same routine that I had previously established.
Now, I need to let you all know something--I am NOT a patient get-upper. When I am woken up in the middle of the night by a sick or scared or crying child, the LAST thing I want to do is get up and be comforting and loving. If we're totally being honest, I usually just want to swear.
But when I heard Elder Scott talk about rocking his child to sleep in the middle of the night in his conference talk a few years ago, and then saw how emotional he was as he recalled his child dying from a heart issue a few months later, it struck a nerve with me.
Getting up with sick or miserable babies is one of the sacrifices I make in order to be a mom. And yes, most of the time it is rather thankless, and yes, it usually means that I end up as a zombie the next day. But these sacrifices--these moments--are so fleeting. I really do need to appreciate them, because, honestly, who knows what may come? Even if my children grow the way they should, and stay healthy into adulthood, I know that these days of toddlers and diaper changes and hushed lullabyes are limited, no matter how endless they may seem when I'm in the middle of them.
So now, I guess all I have to do is remind myself of that next time I hear Jack ask for a drink at 3:00 in the morning.
Comments