Last night’s bedtime went much like the hundreds before it. My almost-three-year-old had his bath, put on his pajamas, drank milk, got tucked in, and said, “goodnight.”
Lately, he’s been a bit more clingy than usual, and so he occasionally calls out for another “big hug” before settling down. Last night was no exception—I gave him a short snuggle, a big kiss, and told him I loved him—just like every other night.
Except last night wasn’t like every other night. Last night, my sweet but stubborn boy wanted me to lie WITH him in bed until he fell asleep. “Lie together, mama.” “Come this way. Big hugs.” “Snuggle mommy.” His voice was so sweet. Good Lord, he’s cute.
I know what you’re thinking…just lie down with him, you heartless jerk. And so I did—he snuggled me, and I found myself thinking—“Am I creating sleep habits I’m going to have to re-train? This child is almost three and has NEVER needed cuddles to get to sleep before.” And so once he seemed calm, I said I was going to go to bed, but that I’d be nearby, and I left the room, reminding him he was safe and mommy was right across the hall.
The tears started before I even got out of the room. They became sobs, which became a huge tantrum. I sat in my room, out of sight but within earshot, at a complete loss as to what to do. The developmental specialist in me said, “Separation anxiety is normal. He knows you’re nearby. He’s not satisfied with just SOME snuggles; he wants you to stay all night—you CAN’T do that unless you’re prepared to do that for every night to come. He knows he’s safe. Let him work it out.”
What they don’t tell you about “cry it out” is that they mean the child AND the parents.
I was absolutely ACHING. I was completely unsure as to whether I should just hold him. I wracked my brain, is he sick? Did he have a tough day? Why is he scared? I felt so guilty, leaving my son just lying in there, crying, and doing nothing. I was texting a friend of mine, an early childhood educator, trying to work out what to do. I went back in to reassure him, and he immediately stopped crying when I hugged him. He calmed down but then cried even louder when I refused to lie down with him and stay all night. I felt like such a failure, and I was afraid to do the wrong thing. It’s important to us that he has the beginnings of independence since we all sleep better separately…and yet it’s so crucially important to be responsive when he needs me. I was at a loss.
Ultimately, I was able to check-in and reassure him at regular intervals, and eventually, with one more hug and a sip of milk, he passed right out. I’m still not confident I did the “right” thing. Isn’t it nice when there are absolute rights and wrongs in life? I’m sure some parents reading this would argue there IS a clear choice here—I am confident that some of my readers will be shocked at my decision to let my toddler cry this way, and would have been more comforting. I also suspect there will be another group of parents who are more stringent than I am—and will think I was a softie to have such a hard time. The bottom line is, I’m both. I want boundaries, structure, and for everyone to get rest. But I’m also sensitive, and it was really difficult to listen to my little guy so upset. For those of you who think this choice is easy—I envy you.
So what’s the take-away? We all do things differently? That sometimes we all feel like a failure? That parenting is hard? I can tell you that one thing I’ve learned; just because you conquer a hurdle—like sleeping, eating, etc.—doesn’t mean it doesn’t rear its ugly head again, throwing you for a loop. It seems like just yesterday I was listening to my 1-year-old cry—and here we are, almost three. Parenting is a marathon, not a sprint. And of all the problems to have, I’ll take a little boy wanting to snuggle Mama all night—any day—over bigger, scarier problems.
Tonight may bring another battle, another parenting challenge—but hopefully fewer tears, for both of us.
