Imagine that you are a baby again. Ever since you were born you had your mommy and daddy by your side; ever since you were born you had those blue walls around you and those white curtains over there and a familiar tick-tack of the wall clock. And then – boom! – out of nowhere, you find yourself in a foreign room; nothing looks familiar, nothing smells familiar – and you are (gasp!) all alone.
That must be scary.
Turning around this predicament in my head while I still waddeld around with that huge belly that later became Timothy, I decided that it will be easier for the baby if I do it all in a completely different way: I decided to move in with my baby boy in his room and stay there for as long as he needed me – and then move back, leaving him in his own, familiar room. That way he need not find himself all alone in a foreign environment.
So when Timothy was born, that’s what I did.
The first 2 or 3 weeks, having had a c-section, getting out of bed was hard. No, scratch that – it was almost impossible. So we got a moses basket and Timothy slept in it in the same bed with me, pushed as far away as possible (so that he won’t be bothered by my milk’s smell while he sleeps). Once I healed, I transferred him to his crib in the opposite corner of the room. He didn’t mind.
When he was a couple of months old, it became obvious that he is a sleeper. He slept from evening until 4-6 am, nursed, and then slept some more until morning.
He went to bed around 10:30 pm at the time – and I went to bed later than that. He napped alone anyway. So I started wondering: what’s the point of sharing a room, if I am not there half of the time when he sleeps?
And if he wakes up on;y once during the night, surely that won’t be too hard for my hubby who needs to wake up and go to work in the morning?
We discussed it and decided that if things remain as they are, I will move back to my bedroom when Timothy turns three months old.
On the day Timothy turned three months, I moved out.
Timothy never noticed. He was in his crib, in his room, under his blanket, with his humidifier (aka white noise machine). He never noticed that mommy’s snoring was missing 🙂
So the transition was easy. I won’t even call it a transition.
And me? For the first couple of nights I felt guilty. I kept thinking: hubby and I snuggle here together, companionably, and poor little Timothy is stuck there all alone. But Timothy slept happily, oblivious to my doubts. No one to disturb him by middle-of-the-night washroom breaks; no one to disturb him with snoring. And I can read in bed until late! 🙂