Today at church I was asked about The Chief by someone who reads my blog.
"Sleeping at nights?"
I plead total ignorance, I had no previous idea that crying it out was a maternal hot topic. I thought it was just old fashioned parenting, and though I have been around babies my entire life (one child of nine, aunt to thirty-five) and have put many to sleep in my day, I am still no match for my own offspring. I am missing the chip that allows for my mechanics to let my child cry. Other people's children? Sure. Wail on.
So the night I blogged about being at a point where I needed my sleep (even though The Chief insisted on milking during the night hours) I mistakenly opened up my heart and a can of worms too. But let this be a lesson unto ye, DO NOT TAKE ANYTHING ON THIS BLOG TOO SERIOUSLY. Most of the time I (along with my mother and bishop) don't either.
But since so many of you were equally open and generous with your thoughts, opinions, book reviews, rants, lengthy orations and threats to call DCFS I thought I might give you the rest of the story.
How is The Chief sleeping?
That night, after I published my unsuspecting post, I went into my bedroom where The Chief was sleeping. (How is it that babies are even more precious when they are sleeping? Is it the pink cheeks? Oh help me. I don't ever use the word precious unless it is a genuine usage.) I looked at him and used my last resort (should be my first) I said a simple prayer, which went something like this:
my plate is so full
(He already knew that)
and i need sleep.
is it possible that
(except, i used his real name)
could start sleeping through the night?
Then I just sorta left that request hanging out there in the ethers, ready for an answer by the way of an appearing angel or a bolt of lightening . . . or something.
But nothing happened, so relying on my thin thread of faith, I picked up my fine specimen. With my cradled hands around his (perfectly shaped) head and his (ample) backside we went into the nursery. Then I, for the first real-intended time, put my baby into his cozy crib and kissed him good night.
And he has slept through the night ever since.
I am renewed. In getting more sleep I am falling more in love with my son. Throughout the day I find myself rewarding him with massive mugging, tandem napping and has-he-always-been-so-glorious? moments. My love of nursing is amplified, my spirit is more sprite and darned if I don't look better (just tell me I do). This is remarkable to me. I had no time to dissect opinions, read books and culture thought. I just needed to be able to ask and receive. Sometimes it isn't so easy but--God be glorified--it was this time.
And that is how The Chief is sleeping these nights.
Thanks for asking.