I’m proud to say that my baby slept from 8:30 p.m. last night until 5:43 a.m. this morning! That’s over 9 hours. Absolutely unprecedented in his previous almost-20 months on the planet. He nursed and went back to sleep until 7:48 a.m., then he woke up very happy and ready to start his day.
As stunning as this achievement is, even more amazing to me is how wonderful I feel today. My mind is clear, I have no aches and pains, and I have ample energy for toddler chasing on this lovely Sunday. This is the first time in the previous 20 months, plus much of my pregnancy that I’ve slept not only seven hours, but also maybe an extra hour and 1/2 this morning after he went back to sleep. How would I remember a detail like that, you may ask? Only because I’ve been obsessing about how little I was sleeping ever since the birth of my precious, sleep-resistant child. Obsessing, not usually in a resentful way, but in a hopeful way. I have held out hope that sleep for all of us will improve. Oh, I admit that I’ve also counted sleep hours in order to whine more effectively to my husband to garner sympathy sometimes.
Better sleep, I’ve read, helps babies with developmental changes and tasks they are trying to achieve, and I’ve wondered whether Forest might be generally happier if he could sleep better. I know it would help me be a more energetic mommy to an active toddler, and I’m sure it would help me be more productive at my job.
Now, I did wake up in the middle of the night, last night, wondering what was wrong with Forest that he was so quiet. But I quickly assured myself that all was well and went back to bed, because I never know when I will be summoned to comfort him. Donald said that he “woke many times” wondering why Forest wasn’t crying to be picked up from his crib. We were both stunned when he didn’t call out to us until 5:43 this morning.
Forest is having an afternoon nap now, and I wish him sweet dreams.