Why my third baby turned me crazy

I made the assumption going in to my third pregnancy, that this third child would be easy, as if I had earned some advanced degree in babies, and this little one would just follow suit. I’m a pro at this, I thought. I’ve been through it all, I thought. Of course this baby will sleep through the night, I thought. But somehow over the last 7 months, I have lost my damn mind and forgotten everything I learned with my boys.

You see, we used to be on a schedule. There was a morning nap and and afternoon nap, and nothing, I mean nothing, would get in the way of those. And it worked. My little guys were well rested and generally happy babies. And I thought getting uninterrupted “me time” while the babies napped was the norm.

I used to have babies that slept through the night. Oh yes. From sometime in the 4th or 5th month, my little guys would sleep a solid 8, 9 or 10 hour stretch. And so I also slept long glorious stretches. And it was awesome.

I used to have babies that fell asleep on their own when you laid them down. It was easy – It was like magic. Lay baby down. Walk away. Poof!! Baby goes to sleep.

I used to have babies that slept in their crib… in their room. As soon as I went back to work both times we made the transition. They could have cared less. They went with the flow. I mean, that’s what a nursery with a crib is for right?

I used to have babies who would allow others to hold them. It was great. It’d go something like this: “Awe, can I hold the baby?” “Sure!” [I hand over baby, baby remains happy, happiness continues whether I stay in the room or walk away].

But now… Now I don’t even recognize that mom I used to be – the one who had this whole baby thing figured out. I almost wonder if I dreamt up my past baby experiences, because this time around it is not that easy.

You see, now there is no schedule. Ideally she’d take a nap, or two. But that doesn’t happen every day. If she does sleep, it’s in her bouncy seat, or in the car, or some other place where the poor kid’s exhaustion is greater than the level of craziness and noise that is constant with a three and five year old. And bedtime – that’s just as soon as we corral the boys to go to sleep… and I’ve finished the dishes… and picked up… and washed my face and put my PJ’s on. Oh wait! Her bedtime is my bedtime!

And sleeping through the night – ha ha ha. Wait a second, she’s done it… once. Which may even be crueler than me living in a world where I thought she was incapable of the feat. Ignorance would have been bliss. But nope, her MO is a wake up call for me every two to three hours. But it’s cool. 8 hours is super over-rated. Humans don’t need that much sleep – and plus I hear that waking up that much makes it easier to get up at 5:30 am to go to work.

And this one sort of falls asleep on her own. All she has to do is be in my arms… and nursing… and boom! She’s out. Until I move her… then we start over. Repeat two or three (or four) times. No big deal – I mean it’s almost the same, right?

Yes, Berkley has her own room. Yes, in that room there is a crib. No, she has never slept in either. That’s right, I have a 7-month-old with a beautiful nursery who has never caught one wink of sleep in it. Good thing me and a lot of my family members busted our tails to make sure it was ready before she was born! Good thing. Nope, this girl sleeps in our room. But she sleeps in her swing. Initially. Until she wakes up (which is anywhere between 5 minutes and 2 hours from when I place her in the swing – which no longer swings, for the record). Then she sleeps in our bed. I mean, a king sized bed was meant for three people right? I think deep down if we really cared to not share our bed, we’d have gone with the queen. Yep. And when she’s sleeping in our bed, all she wants is to be touching all night – tummy to tummy or cheek to cheek, that’s all. She wants to be able to run her (clammy) hands through my hair or caress (pinch) my face. It’s sweet actually. No, really it is.

And no, she doesn’t want anyone but me to hold her. And if I’m lucky enough to pass her off occasionally, I better run. She better not see me. Because as soon as I come into view, she remembers that I’m not holding her, and commence the water works and the pitiful “someone-must-be-pinching-me screams”. But then all I have to do is drop whatever I was trying to do without a baby in my arms, hold her and voila! She’s better.

You know, as I think more about it, she’s really an easy baby. All I’ve got to do is hold her or be within arms reach all day and night. That’s it. She’s happy. Never mind that I’m a wife, or mother to two others, or work a full time job outside the house, or have hobbies like laundry or dishes.

So how did I wind up here? I’ve thought about this a lot. Maybe she is just predispositioned to be a stage 5 clinger. Maybe. Maybe it’s because I know she’s my last and I feed into all her baby-ness and want her close all the time. Maybe I am so damn sleep deprived and exhausted that I am unwilling to do anything that in the short term may cause an inkling of further sleep deprivation or exhaustion (regardless of the potential future benefit), and so I live in the moment of make her stop crying now, please.

So what does the future hold? Are the mistakes I’m making today dooming me for tomorrow? Surely she won’t be like this forever (and if you know any two or three year olds still exhibiting these behaviors, please, please for the love of God, do not tell me – I’m living off hope right now). One thing I do know is that she won’t be a baby forever. One day, sooner than I would like, she won’t have those baby rolls or that baby smell. She won’t want to me hold her all the time or snuggle in bed. One thing my older boys have taught me is that kids grow up way too fast. Before I know it she’ll be grown, and I would give anything to have the sweetness of this stage again.

So as crazy as it may sound, I’m good with life right now. And while it may come as a shock to most (including my former self) that I am still a breast-feeding, co-sleeping, attachment-parenting kind of mom – I’m good. Sure a full nights’ sleep every now and then would probably do me good. However, I know one day I will sleep again. But another thing I’m certain of is that she will never, ever be this little again.