Learning to Sleep

Little Vivian is trying to learn to put herself to sleep.

It's hard. She's been nursing herself to sleep -- at least at night -- all her life. And she often still does. But sometimes she decides she's had enough, and she lays back and looks at me. In the nightlight she looks just like she did when she was a newborn: a little fairy creature with her narrow strong face and huge eyes.

She's very tired; I can tell because she just looks, doesn't smile or chat. I put her into her bed, give her Marmalade the stuffed cat to cuddle, and tuck her under a blanket. If I leave at this point she will start to sob piteously, so I sit back down. She tosses and turns and looks at me. She plays with the puppets that share her bed. She looks at me some more. Those big big eyes.

Last night after about 45 minutes I tried to sneak out. Ten minutes later she started to call to me and then sob. I went back in and gave her a little speech about how I knew it was hard for her to go to sleep, but also that I knew she was big and could do this. And then I gave her Marmalade again.

"Oh, no," she muttered. "No, mom-mom!" Like: I know what this stupid cat means. It means I'm not going to get snuggled. I want to be snuggled!

And I wanted to snuggle her, in the worst way. But picking her up now would be the wrong thing to do. Argh! Hard parenting moment.

She sobs a little, and then settles down for more peering at me. It was another 20 minutes before she was finally asleep.

At my house, we call this "progress."