Sweet Dreams for Paityn and Memories for Mama

Her little body wiggles around, trying to find the perfect position.  She whispers nonsense and giggles, twisting and turning.  My whispering hushes slowly calm her.  

She rolls over to me and scootches until she is close enough to place both her baby hands on either side of my face.  Baby lips whisper, "Kiss, mama," and she gives barely butterfly kisses to me again and again.  

The hands pat my face, then still.  Their warmth turns slightly sticky on my cheeks, but I hold still, eyes closed.   She bends her head until we are forehead against forehead, gently resting against one another in the silent darkness.

Soft eyelashes brush my forehead slower and slower as heavy lids find it impossible to remain open.  I can't resist a peek, and I open my eyes to see identical brown ones staring at me.  A smile flits across both our faces.

"Love, mama," she whispers. 

"I love you, too, Lovey," I respond, a smile tinging my voice with the joy filling my heart at her words.  Her hands still hold my face.

The darkness is soothing and peaceful, the blankets are warm and heavy, and her breathing turns slowly steady.  I risk another peek to see she has entered dreamland, quietly and slowly, her last thoughts being those of safety, love, and security in my presence.

Do I spoil her by nursing or snuggling her to sleep each night?  Supernanny would probably say yes.  I do sometimes wonder if Supernanny has ever watched a child fall to sleep, her last whispered words a sweet message of love?  Has she ever held that preciousness in her arms, giving sweet security and comfort without counting the minutes being "wasted?"

Many people encourage children to fall asleep on their own.  I'm not saying it's wrong because every child is different (I know some babies who don't struggle with sleep the way my little love always has), but it's not for Paityn and me.  She's needed me to fall asleep since that very first night in the hospital.

I will never forget the night after she was born.  Everyone went home, Dan passed out on the massively uncomfortable fold-out chair, and I nursed Paityn to sleep one last time (or so I thought) before trying to put her in her bassinet. 

She would have none of it.  Cries that would have woken anyone else besides an exhausted father would not be soothed.  So, back she came to bed with me.  I thought I would just hold her a little longer before trying again.

I was petrified to fall asleep holding this tiny bundle, so new to this world and so longing for the comfort of mama's arms.  I spent the night watching season 3 of Gilmore Girls and wondering if all babies were like this.  And wishing for a little bit of sleep.

I will keep the memory of that exhausting, long night in my heart forever.  I've never felt so needed, so important to someone.  

And so here we are.  Every night, I spend an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less, nursing or cuddling to sleep.  Almost two years later, I've spent countless hours laying in bed with my daughter, watching her fall asleep, holding her while she slept, staying close by to help her stay asleep.

A waste of time spent coddling? 

We mamas sometimes don't do things by the book.  And usually, those are our best decisions- when we follow our hearts, our instincts, our intuition, not what some doctor or PhD tells us based on easily manipulated statistics and questionable research.

Twenty years from now, these long hours will be but a drop in a very full bucket of memories.  Paityn won't need me to hold her or even be in the same town for her to fall asleep.  Her life will be full of other things: work, school, friends, perhaps a boyfriend, even. (Yes, Dan, maybe even a boyfriend.  Quit screaming.)

But these few brief moments in her life are for us.  

For her to be sure of my love and support, to know that mama will always be there when she needs me.  Whether it's to help her fall asleep at night, pick up the pieces after she makes a mistake, or hold her when she gets her heart broken.

And for me to create memories to last the rest of my life, to pull out when she's grown up and far from home, living her life.  I will have the memory of these "wasted" hours spent spoiling her.

Laughter and babbling words.  Tiny hands cradling my face.  Whispers of love between mother and daughter.  Breathing in time with each other, sleep sometimes overtaking not just one, but both of us.

Sweet dreams for her.  Sweet memories for me. 

A note on co-sleeping:  Please do not use pillows when co-sleeping with an infant.  In both cases, my husband was in the same room and awake doing work.  In the second picture, I used the pillows for nursing, and when I later moved Paityn to the bed, they were all removed.  

Safe co-sleeping practices include a firm mattress, no heavy comforters, no pillows, and parent(s) should not drink, smoke, or take any form of drugs, including sleep aids and cold medications.