In the last trimester of my first pregnancy, I lost count of times other mothers jokingly told me to enjoy my sleep while I could. Giggles were shared and we’d make light of the fact that I was up every few hours to pee anyway, baby residing on my bladder and all. But honestly, how bad could it be? Brutal. Really, really brutal.
I thought my first son Baker was a fussy sleeper but I realise now he was probably more in the mainstream category. So as I entered into motherhood for the second time I thought, I got this. I’m good. Jones arrived and I did things differently. More baby wearing, gentler parenting.
I had no intention of letting him cry it out. I know the difference between a grizzle and that moment of complete silence in between strong tears. That, I cannot do. Sleeping wouldn’t be a stand off. It just had to work for both of us.