Emptiness

We never meant for it to be this way. Before his birth we spent hours... weeks preparing the perfect nursery. We bought the best crib we could afford, the linens we couldn't. We prepared the perfect little nest for our son. But it was difficult, after nine months of carrying him around inside of me, to leave him so far away. It's not that I thought I wouldn't hear him if he woke up, have you ever heard a baby cry?! It was more of a separation thing, and besides, when they're so tiny, and eating ever two hours or so, it makes no sense to trudge all the away across the house in the wee hours of the morning to nurse, rock, put to bed, only to start all over again.

So in came the bassinette. I suppose there's nothing out of the ordinary about a bassinette. Probably 90% of folks use them while their babies are small. And that worked, as long as I didn't fall asleep while nursing him and just keep him there draped across my chest.

Then came the hurricanes, and bassinettes don't travel well. Nor do they fit in hotel rooms being shared by 7 people. And then came the next hurricane, and we were left sleeping on the floor, all of us. All of the sleeping rules went out the window, and to be honest, in those moments when everything in life seemed uncertain, and we stood a very good chance of losing everything we ever had, it made sense to keep the most important things so close.

When people learn that we co-sleep with our son, they usually have one of two reactions... either we're total hippy freaks, you know, those kind that eat granola and wear hemp clothes, or we're stupid parents intent on ruining our son for the rest of his life. Either way, we're frowned upon.

Of course, this has nothing to do with the decision to introduce the porta-crib. The reason it's time is because twice in a month our little worm has taken a header in the middle of the night and ended up face-first on the floor. We've been lucky both times. The first time, he didn't even wake up, but I can't deal with the internal anxiety about three being the proverbial charm and him ending up a quadrapelegic or something.

So, for the first time in ten months,(nineteen if you count the pregnancy) my bed is empty. No tiny little head beneath my chin. No fuzzy blonde curls tickling my nose. No pudgy arms draped across mine. Emptiness. Total emptiness.

I'm not stupid enough to deny the fact that it's time to start helping our son learn to sleep alone, but I wonder, who's going to help me?