The story continues….
Night 3 ended up being the worst night of the whole process. Obviously the son realised he was in a war for his sleeping freedom and he wasn’t going to give up without one hell of a fight. “I will fight them on the streets. I will fight them on the beaches….”.
Again, the start of the night was better and he was down after about 40 minutes. Mind you, I think that was because he was absolutely exhausted as the new regime was completely messing about his day sleeps as well. He’d been a good day sleeper for quite some time and was going down for nearly two hours each day.
Alas, the last few days had thrown a spanner in the works and those sleeps were now down to only 45 minutes. Just to add to our tiredness as it stopped us from catching up on some sleep during the day.
So while 40 minutes wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good either. And there were some terse words between the wife and I as we questioned the tactics being used and were struggling to see any light at the end of the tunnel. Massively influenced by our own exhaustion levels and loss of the ability to think and act in a rational manner.
The son then woke at midnight, again, and it was game-on for nearly 3 hours. He didn’t scream the whole time but it was just short breaks of a minute at most before he’d wind up again like an air raid siren. Total utter screamfest.
Again, it was horrible to listen to and the wife ended up outside on the balcony hoping she wouldn’t be able to hear it. But she still could. Which then caused even more anxiety on our part as we worried about the neighbours hearing it all as well.
We extended the periods between us going in and settling him down. Alas, the requirement that we leave him in the cot still awake so that he learns to self-settle was proving a real hindrance. Because he’d just start up again as soon as we left and it just seemed to make him even angrier. In turn, it would then take even longer to get him to settle back down and stop crying.
Come 3am then, and with all life and sense of purpose drained out of us, I gave in and let the wife go in and settle him back to sleep. He was down and out in mere seconds but we felt defeated. We were losing this war badly despite the odd battle win.
So far from ultimate victory, we were like the British Army at Dunkirk in 1940. But where was our Winston to rally the nation and stare the enemy down.
The books and routines we’d read actually mentioned some timeframes for likely success. 3-15 nights was the answer. That’s not an answer. Having a range like that is the same as saying ‘hey, we haven’t got a clue how long it’ll take. Give it a go and hope for the best’.
Well, the son certainly wasn’t a 3 night prospect now and in all likeliness we were going to be doing this for over two weeks. Lord have mercy!
I actually woke the next day and said to the wife that perhaps we should stop it and try again in a few weeks. It was a thoroughly weak moment but I was a beaten man and seeing my wife as upset as she’d been was taking its toll on me and my determination to succeed.
To my wife’s credit she said no, and that we needed to keep going to ensure the last three nights were not wasted. So the decision was made to continue. Death or glory as they say.
The wife also woke the next morning with some stomach cramping and a massive headache to go with it. She was being a trooper though and told me to go off to work anyway. As the day went on, she got worse and worse to the point that she drove over to her parents house so that they could help out with the son.
Once work finished, I headed over there as well and said to her that perhaps she should spent the night there and rest while I took on the son for another night. At first, she said no but after some coaxing from her parents, she reluctantly agreed and pretty much went straight to bed at 6:30pm just after the son and I returned home.
Now, this sounds pretty underhanded, but I was glad to not have the wife around that night as seeing her so upset was making the task that much harder. It was emotionally draining having to witness the anguish of our son. But it was also exhausting having to continually convince the wife of what we were doing.
So without her there, I could do it my way and not be questioned about my sense of empathy or kindness. Because I knew we weren’t being cruel or unkind. This was for the son’s greater good, and that in fact, we were being kind in trying to teach him to self-settle and sleep so much better.
To be continued….
EDM.
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