by Bethany Lindquist

Created on: August 07, 2009

It's no secret in my house when my son is upset. He lets the whole world know he's ticked off. And he stays ticked off until he starts coughing and gets sick or I come and soothe him, albeit, somewhat reluctantly on my part at times because I want him to learn how to self-soothe. Is self-soothing an unattainable goal? A pipe dream that only lucky and Hall of fame parents are able to teach their kids? These questions race through my mind as I attempt again to put my squirming son down for a nap.

The same thought crept sleepily through my mind as well when I held him. All. Night. Long. Now that is part of my issue. We have a family bed as I am still nursing the little one at night for nutrition and comfort, so I do hold him all night. But in the daytime, I want a break from having his 22 pounds of wriggling, flesh bruising, grasping, and hair-pulling. Don't get me wrong, I love my son dearly, but when do I get some momma time?

So, in the day time, I nurse my son until he is asleep because if I try to put him down "sleepy" he pops right back up...always has. When he is asleep, I transfer him to his crib and sneak out of the room on whispering toes that carry 20 less pounds and I pirouette around my kitchen blissfully until I hear the telltale little cry of protest coming from the baby's room. I hear it again a little louder this time. I try to pretend that I heard nothing and go about my somewhat deflated business. Again, I hear him stirring and I know that I just put him down 10 minutes ago, but my arms still itch to reach out and pick him up. I scratch my palms and bite my knuckles. The intensity of his cries pick up. He's getting persistent and I am sitting on the rim of the bathtub, white faced and beating myself up.

Finally, as he is coughing and screaming, I know that he is not just going to lie back down and go to sleep. No, he is going to continue screaming until someone knocks on my door to ask if everything is okay. So I pick myself up, put on my best soothing, sweet and calm face and stride confidently into his room. One look at that tear streaked face and I turn to absolute mush. I scoop him up and immediately begin to apologize and tell him how sorry I am that I let him cry when he just wanted comfort.
I nurse him and stroke his sweaty little face, noting the dark circles under his eyes and how he rubs them with his little marshmallow fists. I hum a lullaby and rock him until he is nodding off... then UP he pops as he tries to slide

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