You have been swaddled every nap and night of your life- until yesterday. The last several nights you've gotten out of your swaddle within minutes and awakened every 1-2 hours. Mommy was worn out. My body ached from lack of sleep and my mind was mush. I felt like I was between a rock and a hard spot. Our doctor recommended we let you cry it out between 4-6 months. We tried one night and were both to weakened by your cries and didn't last the full night. We swore we wouldn't do it again. However, yesterday, I didn't know what else to do. I knew I couldn't face many more nights of 8-10 wakings (as I had the previous few nights). So I unswaddled you- knowing you didn't know how to fall asleep unswaddled (although you are a pro at falling asleep swaddled:) You cried for what seemed like forever. I cried with you. I paced, I prayed and I plugged my ears. I have never felt so helpless. But you fell asleep. You won't remember this. I know. But I will. Until last night, I have answered your every whimper. It makes me think of my Heavenly Father. He always listens, but He doesn't always answer or come to me immediately. I have pled, begged, cried, even screamed for Him- for His comfort. I haven't always received it when I asked. But it always came eventually. This morning when you awakened- you smiled at me. Your smile was so unconditional and joyful. I believe you don't trust me less, as I don't trust Heavenly Father less. I believe you know I love you, as I know Heavenly Father loves me. I believe you knew all along that I was here and you weren't completely alone.
Tonight, I got you ready for bed: gave your your baby massage, sang to you and held you in my arms. I put you in your crib, held both hands and told you that I wasn't coming back in tonight again and that you needed to sleep like a big girl- unswaddled. I left the room and you didn't make a peep. Once again, I believe you trust me, you know I love you and you know I am here for you. I believe you understood the feeling of what I was telling you and you then fell asleep.
There will be times Norah when I don't have immediate answers, or when I can't comfort you, or help carry your pain. But I will always love you and be there for you. And it is in those moments, you will grow and find your own, personal strength. I thank God for those hard, trying and tiring experiences He's given me where His hand, although "stretched out still" was not visible to me- those times where He didn't answer my cry immediately. Those moments have given me silent strength that lays dormant in my spirit until called upon. It is strength that gives me confidence to love and be hurt, to offer and be rejected and to live and perhaps lose.
I love you Norah.
love, mommy
