Preparing for the inevitable

I decided I would rather endure suffering here, at home, in familiar turf, than at the in-laws when we are celebrating Christmas.

We began today by getting Kate to nap in her tent. Now, she used to love her tent. As a baby the darkness and way it enclosed her provided a lot of comfort. But the last time she slept in it was back in May I think, and she doesn't really remember it. For the past few days she's played in it in the living room, then we moved it to her bedroom and read books in it. Today we took the next step. I put her to sleep in it. I mean, I put her to screaming in it. Maybe she just has to cry it out, I thought. The competing voice chiming in, "Kate has never fallen asleep by crying it out." I decided to wait ten minutes.

I sat, listening to her scream for ten neverending minutes as I clockwatched and tried to block out the sound. I contemplated getting out the camera to record the hideous sound for some twisted idea of posterity. Ten minutes finally passed. I went in and sat next to her, comforting her with words but trying to ignore her (pleas to play, and signs to get out). I left again for fifteen minutes this time with a very similar scene. When I returned, she'd pooped which required me to start our naptime routine over.

This time I was plum out of juice. The thought of making her cry any more broke my heart. I just imaged all the cortisol flowing through her body, rewiring her delicate little neuropathways, making changes to her poor little brain because I wanted her to sleep in a tent. Ah, knowledge. How cruel you are to a mother. Plus, I couldn't stand the idea of her being alone and scared. I was sitting in the living room, imagining myself on my death bed, terrified of the inevitable but surrounded by those I love. I know, I'm bizarre. I knew that I want those I love around me when I'm upset and scared. Why not validate my little one in the same way? So I hunkered down next to the tent in her room.

She first tried to engage me in a game of peek a boo. Then she cried and whined. Then when that didn't get results she tried to unzip the tent. That lasted, I kid you not, twenty minutes. It's a miracle she didn't figure it out. I suggested she cuddle with horsey. She cried, but went and got horsey and cuddled. Forty minutes into my hunkering down she finally laid down, but continued thrashing about in the tent. I fell asleep. Somewhere in there she did, too.

Let's hope bedtime takes less time and doesn't involve me sleeping on her floor.