When you have a baby the one thing people ask is: "How is he sleeping?"
I'm always tempted to reply, "Like a baby," because if you have any experience with infants you know that means not so good, and if you don't then you walk away thinking everything's just grand.
But I'll be straight with you: not so good.
At night I lie down with Henry sometime between 7:30 and 8:30pm. He fusses, crawls all over the bed and me, nurses off and on, sucks his thumb off and on, and finally falls asleep after about half an hour. I generally turn the TV on (sound off and closed-captioning on) at that point and watch until I decide it's late enough for a 35-year old to turn in or until Henry starts to fuss, at which point I immediately turn the TV off and pretend like I was sleeping the entire time, honest
After that Henry wakes up roughly every two hours or so and nurses. He also cries out in his sleep, or moans, or otherwise fusses, which I may or may not need to respond to with more than a "shh, shh, sweetie."
Then he wakes up for good at around 7am.
Naptime used to mean my lying with him also, but since his first cold a few months ago -- which required him to stay upright -- I've been putting him in his Kozy mei tai
He usually falls asleep within ten minutes or so, which enables me to sit at the computer and surf the internet. I can't type more than a few words, though, or he'll wake up. For some reason clicking the mouse is okay.
By the way, this is our current sleeping set-up:
I never thought my bedroom would look like this, and it's a bit embarrassing to post a photo of it, but I figured someday when my bedroom is Martha Stewart perfect (minus the felony conviction) I'll want a reminder of what we went through in order to catch some z's.
You'll notice that our queen-sized mattress is on the floor and the extra twin bed we bought is still raised up on a bedframe and boxspring. Henry and I sleep in the queen and my poor six-foot-three-inch husband is relegated to the twin.
Could someone tell me again how as parents, you don't join your child's life, they join yours? Because I don't think Henry got the memo.