16. Noble's New Year

As the stroke of 12 approached on New Year's Eve, Noble was rioting against sleep. After an hour of trying to entice her to snooze, Bill's mom (beloved Gmza) stepped in and took over, pushed me to join Bill at the annual Saenz fête down the street, and I left the hall of screams for a lighter atmosphere. Precious tidings arrived by text soon after, letting us know she'd been walked to sleep in her grandmother's arms.

The new year has ushered in lots of chatty exchanges, squeals and some well earned giggles during tickle frenzies. We are outrageously delighted about this, obviously, and I keep this treasure in mind when driving my screaming baby from place to place.

Naps continue to elude us. I can occasionally get her down for a post breakfast nap in our bed, or during a long walk around the neighborhood. She has zonked out a couple times after a nice long scream in the car for a full half hour, but once the car is off the spell is broken. Bill's had some success rocking her while blasting NPR, and through sheer strength and perseverance, but clear patterns have yet to emerge. I've been reading a lot about babies and sleep. Despite feeling armed with expert wisdom and statistics when night approaches, my research never quite seems to apply. Mastering the wake and sleep method put forth by Dr. Harvey Karp feels like a suicide mission, and lulling her to sleep with anything but nursing has failed me. Dream feeds? Too risky. I feel trapped between the promise of delirium and inconvenience. She is still young for sleep training, but I'm assured the routine I've designed will yield a smooth transition to Ferberizing - the next looming trauma.

7:30 Start winding down. Lights low, tv off. Reading until she revolts.
8:30 Bath with Mommy. Bubbles. Lounging. Hope.
8:50 Transition to robe, bundled in towel. Tentative good humor. Warmth.
9:00 White noise, quick massage, jammies and crying. Steadfast conviction.
9:05 Quiet screams with nipple. Rocking, singing and nursing until she drowses. Dread.
9:45 Break the latch, gingerly approach the swing while mimicking its motion. Darkness. Fear.
10:00 Silently exit. Hide under covers from baby monitor. Shame.

Bill has a less cowardly approach, one not riddled with anxiety or stress eating, but it does call for more of a work out. After hunching over to nurse every two hours during the day, my back is not above phoning it in by bedtime. Per Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child I'm pulling her back 15 minutes earlier every evening, so by the weekend I could be retiring her at 8 instead of 10. The best tip I've heard from my parent friends about this stage is that "it passes." An elegant truth, and one I often forget. I'm definitely functioning, and admirably so in many ways. I'm especially impressed every time I have to wake up at how much pep's in my step, and how much restraint comes naturally when I consider eating her.