Ode to Grace

When I was pregnant with Asher I was in the (lengthy) midst of reading The Ancient Practice Series--a set of books, each highlighting a spiritual discipline. The one I picked up in those last swelling months was In Constant Prayer by Robert Benson, and its pages lured me into the beauty and goodness of fixed-hour prayer.

I was also reading a book on parenting--the only book I was to read while pregnant with my firstborn, the only book recommended to me time and time again by new parents--Babywise. 

Now. If I knew myself then like I know myself now, I would realize that this was a horrible combination. 

Because what else would Kristen Leach decide to do at nine months pregnant, but make the decision to adopt two wholly new practices that would begin the hour after experiencing the most critical pain of her life and after meeting a new person, who--oh yeah--she was responsible for?

 I decided that I would train my baby to sleep and eat on a schedule. I would do it at 12, 3, 6, and 9. Around the clock. Every day. And I would use that time to jettison myself on a journey of prayer where I could utilize that time to grow, spiritually, I would get my life into some order. And things would revolve around my glorious, divine, serene rhythm of prayer and gentle care for my child.

It was a disaster.

Let's start with the prayer. Because BOY WAS THAT SHORT LIVED.

Aside from the fact that breastfeeding seemed to need three or four hands that I didn't have, and there was no way I could hold a Bible or prayer book. Aside from the fact that my eyes could hardly stay open at feedings. Aside from the fact that my brain had suddenly turned to emotional sludge. Aside from the prayers of--God, please help me, I don't know what I'm doing! And, God, please numb my nipples because breastfeeding is the worst thing in the world and how do women do this??! And, Father, I absolutely cannot keep doing this! I am so tired. My body is so sore. I am exhausted. And I'm just not sure that I can undress this sleeping baby and wipe his body with a cold rag again because I do not care that he wakes up and eats, because all I want in the whole entire world is to get some sleep. 

Because that is what Babywise (and the nurse at the hospital) had led me to believe I had to do. I was vigilant. If I was going to fail at prayer, by gosh, I would succeed at sleep training. I was mentally committed. And under the impression that if I didn't feed Asher at exactly these intervals and didn't get him to sleep it was because I was the failure. Babywise teaches you that if your child sleeps through the night it is not because they are a great sleeper, it is because you taught them. Therefore it stood to reason that I was a bad teacher. Because, let me tell you, Asher did not sleep through any nights for a long, long, long, long time.

The first night home from the hospital--I cringe to think of this--we put tiny, little, brand new Asher in his cradle, unswaddled, without a pacifier (don't want to get in the habit of baby needing an aid to fall asleep!) and we decided to let him cry it out. I think I cried harder. I felt so trapped by my need to go by the book. I knew that if I didn't teach him to sleep then he would grow up and feel insecure because I gave mixed messages about sleep and he would question the relationship between me and his father because he would be unsure about where my priorities lie and if I gave in now, I would give in later, when he is a teenager and wants to do drugs.

Your mind does crazy things after having a baby.

I was riddled with anxiety. 

I probably should have been on medication. But what did I know? I thought it was normal to try to stay up all night and not sleep. Because someone has to make sure that the baby is still breathing. I thought that I had to make him eat every 2.5-3 hours, even when he was a rock and wouldn't wake up. That first week when my mom was with me she said I would get up in a stupor and try to nurse my pillow, apologizing for having fallen asleep. I wouldn't remember in the morning. 

I wouldn't allow myself to take naps during the day. I made myself get up at 6 am. I would never nap in the bed with him. I remember crying and looking at my mom and saying, "What am I supposed to do now?" I was frantic. I couldn't think of things to say to him. I had read you were supposed to talk to babies a lot so I recited the Apostles' Creed and Mark Antony's speech from Julius Caesar. 

I was a mess, and Asher wouldn't sleep. He got fat. But he wouldn't sleep.

We would stop with it. I would let him fall asleep in the swing. I would walk him around and sing to him and lay him in his crib. I would hold him on the couch and watch cooking shows while he napped. We would go for a morning walk every day and he would sleep in the stroller. It worked. But I felt like a failure.

A couple months in, a friend--a breath of fresh air--suggested Happiest Baby on the Block. And I learned to swaddle, to shush. I bought a white noise machine instead of playing Iron and Wine on a loop all night. I found some things that worked! But every once in a while we would try again. I would feel like I needed to quit with all of my props and get down to business.

Asher didn't sleep through the night until he started walking at 10 months. And even then getting to sleep was a struggle. My son is just a BIT strong-willed. He would stand up in his crib, fall asleep standing up. We would hear him choke on the monitor as he strangled himself on the crib railing, failing down. And thus wake himself up again. I was all nerves. But eventually he got it down. We found what worked for us. For both of us.

Now. I will say this. Babywise works for lots of people. And guess what--it even worked for me! But only after I got past the rigidity of it. Only after I allowed myself the freedom to improvise, to use what aids I needed to. To allow for flexibility in schedules--to let him nap in the car seat if he happened to fall asleep, to hold him while he slept, to postpone a feeding until he woke naturally. It only worked once I was more confident in my own knowledge of my child than in my knowledge of the program.

When I was pregnant with Zimrie I decided that I wasn't going to try to use anything. I wasn't going to read any books. I wouldn't use the Babywise method. I would just try to get to know him. And what do you know? Of course Zimrie was the easiest baby ever and immediately put himself on the sleep, eat, play schedule. And of course he slept through the night way earlier than Asher did. Because he was a different baby.

Jonah is different, too--not a great napper, but much better at night. And Jonah likes to throw in an extra feeding. He doesn't nurse to sleep. But he won't go to sleep unless he eats before.  

I think that books and programs are helpful. But I think we have to consider our personalities. Maybe I should have read more books before Asher to learn both (or all of the) sides. Or maybe that would have just made me more confused and sporadic and.... schizophrenic?

I wanted a manual. But I got a child. Those poor firstborns, bearing all the brunt of our clueless parenting endeavors. But they also get the best--the tuned in focus, the enrichment activities, the least amount of shared germs. 

I'm so thankful that I learned about grace. How to give it--to see Asher as a tiny new person who was learning, too. And to myself--that sometimes it's okay to do what works. That sometimes survival can trump your ideals. And that ultimately I was a failure only in my own eyes.