Ex-squeeze-me, but where has this year gone?

We’re knee-deep into the holiday season, and I’m still trying to come up with my New Year’s resolution.

Let me see if I can make out my notes here.

Sl—

Sle—

Sleep.

Ah yes, that’s right: it was to sleep more.

Sleep more.

Well, there I go repeating myself again.

You’ll have to forgive me.

My eyelids are presently propped open with toothpicks, and I’m having difficulty seeing my keyboard.

It’s just that my 9-month-old does not sleep.

He really hasn’t much since birth.

At first, his doctor said he’s just a large child, so he will eat all night.

And he did.

But he’s never stopped.

Because his girth has only increased, we’ve ruled out any milk supply issue.

Isn’t your second kid supposed to sleep better?

You’d think this were my first rodeo.

Well, this cowgirl’s tired.

Now, every empathetic passerby has kindly recommended a preferred sleep-training technique.

And they were right to do so.

And for a while, I gave it my best go.

But the reality is: I can’t cry it out (for very long).

I just can’t.

I end up being the one who’s mostly crying it out—slouched by the door of the room that holds my baby who needs snuggled.

It stresses me immensely.

It’s no secret that I’m the problem.

I know that a 9-month old should not be regularly waking 3-5 times per night.

I know that a 9-month old should self-soothe.

I know that a 9-month old does not need to eat all night long.

I know, people.

I know.

And a few months ago, I cared.

But those few months came and went, with no sight of improvement.

And now?

Now I know that I know that I know that I am, in fact, the problem.

But I also know that my baby will sleep through the night at some point, no matter what I do.

I know that at that time, for a short bit, I’ll be relieved and more rested.

I know that soon after, I’ll miss this.

I’ll miss this year where my baby boy relied on me more than anyone.

I’ll miss rocking him into the early morning hours, while the world is quiet.

I’ll miss being needed this much—arguably more than this little boy will ever need me again in his life.

Yes, I may be the reason my baby won’t sleep.

But it doesn’t bother me enough to fix it.

Originally published on the author’s blog