In the calm of the night

Does this happen to other Moms? Tonight, all things seemed peaceful and I eagerly looked forward to the possibility of turning in at a semi-decent hour to log some hours of shut eye. But, the sleeping little one must have keyed into her Mama's intentions of clocking out and she had other ideas. The baby cries, awakening from her sleep informing me she has some unmet need. I am like a firefighter; I hear the baby cry and instantly I respond. I must extinguish that crying! Maternal hormones and shots of adrenaline course through my system and bring even the groggiest of me straight into action.

Analytical capabilities and nurturing techniques channel into one dynamic system. She is like a little General, commanding this household. (Over Christmas her youngest cousin astutely observed that, "it is amazing how she controls everything you guys do. Babies are fun, but wow are they a lot of work. I didn't know they were so much work." A most insightful observation from a 9-year-old.) First tonight, it was a burp as in she had to and needed my assistance. I knew this was the case because of her little, "eh, eh, eh, eh" sounds. All the usual techniques failed, and so I sat her down and had her lean forward tempting her to reach for a toy. That helped 'cause soon enough, my suspicions were confirmed when I heard the sweetest sound. Burp. And then to my surprise, it was followed by another, even sweeter sound ... giggles, and giggles and more giggles. This baby, at six months old, can laugh with the best of them. She laughed and laughed and laughed, grinning all the while.

O.K. Back to bed for the babe. She needs a little routine to segway her back into dreamland. First off, swaddle. We embrace the calming techniques learned in the The Happiest Baby on the Block by Harvey Karp, MD. His techniques have worked like magic for calming the newborn. But now, Julia = No swaddle, no sleep. She craves swaddling. She is so active, arms and legs flying wildly about, rolling, reaching, flipping, shouting, playing, back and forth. If we put her in her crib with just pajama's on, she is like a little kid in a candy factory going here and there and everywhere. When we bring out the Miracle Blanket she instantly begins to assume her unique sleeping position, and complains that she is not there yet! And so, I swaddle her all nice and snug, so that she feels safe and calm. Then we walk to her window facing north, tap the blinds, and close them. We walk to her window facing west, tap the blinds, and close them. I dim the lights, and turn on some white noise which she loves. Then I cradle her in my arms and sit down in our rocking chair, and begin to rock and I sing to her. Slowly she relaxes, and then I know it is time to put her to sleep. She is drowsy but alert. If I skip any step in our routine, she complains and cries and protests. Happily, she goes to sleep.

Forty minutes go by, and I am climbing into bed. Then, I hear it ... the crying. It is the baby of course. This time she is uncomfortable telling me, "Heh, heh, heh." This means a wet diaper, and necessitates a quick change. But then, another burp is in the works ... and finally, she is ready for sleep and so I go through the routine again.

Twenty minutes later .... full out crying. I wonder what could be the problem. She seems to mumble and I hear some distinct N and M sounds ... that means she is hungry. And so I feed her, burp her, change her, rock her .... put her back to sleep. The novelty of these actions has long since worn off and yet my husband and I continue doing them.

It is amazing to hold her in my arms. She smells so sweet. Her skin is so soft. Her baby hair is filling in. She bats her long eyelashes and makes baby sounds to me, telling me important things. I love her so much, I want to protect her and keep her safe. Already six months have gone by. She is growing, having more than doubled her birthweight long ago. She is getting heavier and more solid. This week she learned to sit up independently. No longer does she mould into the contours of my body for support when I hold her in my lap. Instead, she sits herself up balancing and such. She is scooting on her tummy, rolling, babbling, growing.

She is the epitome of babyhood just yet, and already I can feel her infancy slipping away. It is a marvelous, welcome and joyful change signifying good healthy and that she is thriving in every way, but small pangs of sadness linger in my mind. In the distance I can see sleep filled nights, and hear simple sentences and words being uttered. I can now see how parents don't want their kids to grow up. You want them to, but you don't.

More pressing concerns are the here and now. How can I fall asleep and let down my guard? Who will be watching over her if not for me? I know daylight will come soon enough and with it a new day. New challenges. New milestones. New demands on my already taxed energy reserves.

Although it is now it is my turn to sleep, all those hormones and adrenaline surges have put me into overdrive. I feel awake, alert; I have gotten my second wind. It is my time to sleep and yet I cannot. Is the baby O.K.? I can here her sweet little breathing as she dreams her baby dreams. She is like a cup of caffeine late at night -- good for getting through the rough spots, but the effects of which do not wear off in time. But of course I will sleep ... sometime. Or so I hope, until the baby calls me again ....

I have new respect for the mothers of this world.