Cot-gate

I’ve had enough. As much as watching my adorable infant sleep next to me, and hearing his gentle breaths gives me the ultimate feels, it’s got to stop. I haven’t had a decent night sleep since he was born, I sleep teetering on the edge of the bed whilst he’s spreadeagled in the middle. Every morning my back hurts from laying twisted to ensure I don’t roll on him, I never feel rested. I never feel like I’ve slept. I’m exhausted. I need quality sleep.

But co-sleeping is all Even Balder knows. We’ve been doing it for most of his life. He’s not going into his cot without a fight. I’ve tried popping him in during the day so he gets used to being in there and I can have a poo in peace. (Well, as peaceful as it can be with him screaming in the next room.) But he still seems to have a rather strong ‘cot aversion’.

This week I got my official return to work date. I’m pretty stoked about going back. I’m craving adult conversations that have nothing to do with children, being creative and getting out of the house. But if I go back with my current cognitive abilities, I’ll be worse than useless. I can barely get a sentence out before I’ve forgotten what I was trying to say.

Last Saturday, after a boob feed, I placed Even Balder in his cot. I left the room and closed the door.

Nothing.

I practically skipped downstairs and turned on the monitor.

Not a sound.

…

Then the anxiety kicked in – Why isn’t he crying? Has the cover gone over his face? (He was tucked in in such a way that couldn’t happen) Is he breathing? I worked hard at being rational and sat down in front of the chimnea hubs had got going. I started to relax, so this is what it feels like to have grown up time away from the kids! Right on cue Even Balder started crying. I went up, I sorted him, I came downstairs. He started again. It took longer and a boob feed this time but when I lowered him into the cot again, he slept. I enjoyed my evening without holding a semi-conscious/sleeping boob monster. I felt free!

He did not sleep in his cot all night. And rather ironically faced with being able to sleep however I wanted to for the first time in months, I couldn’t get comfortable!

I’ve managed six nights, to start him off in his cot. The following Saturday, he wasn’t going to settle for love nor money so he came in with us. But I get it. It’s what he knows and if he’s feeling poorly, or a bit off or those BLOODY TEETH are hurting him, he wants me. He wants to curl into my chest and sleep. He wants to spend a proportion of the night kicking and grabbing at hubs too, I mean why wouldn’t he want to play in the early hours of the morning?

But one day, I’ll wake up and I won’t see his face, eyes closed, long tuft of hair over his ear, his little chubby hand resting on my boob. And I’ll never wake to that again. And I imagine I’ll ache to have him back, this small and this content, but that part of his childhood will be over. So I’ll take the back ache and I’ll take tiredness because I think the very definition of precious is waking to our beautiful boy, in the place he feels safest, between his mum and his dad.

In other news:

We’ve had Marms for six whole years! I shall be making her fishy for tea to celebrate.

The Bald Kitten has started his extended Nursery hours, he is LOVING it.

Even Balder is the proud owner of a single tooth. Which seems a bit unfair as he’s been teething FOR EVAH.