Well, it’s been about a week since we put Max in his own room and the only thing I can say is: “WHY THE HECK DIDN’T WE DO THIS BEFORE?!!”. The first night was bad. Really really bad. Four-cups-of-coffee-weren’t-enough-to-make-it-to-10AM bad.
The second night wasn’t much better.
During the third night, Max started to accept his new digs.
Last night, for the first time, we didn’t have to get up and feed him. That’s not to say he didn’t wake up. Poor kid has a hacking cough so he woke himself up 2 times. However, we made the decision to let him fuss for 5-10 minutes before we went into his room to comfort him.* Both times last night, he went back to sleep within the designated 600 seconds. I did not have to get out of bed a single time. It’s a Labor Day miracle.
I thought for sure this day would never come. I thought it was an *indubitable* fact that 15 years from now I’d be getting up a 2AM to make him a pizza.
So maybe things are getting better. With him in his own room, we don’t wake to every toss, turn or sneeze Max makes. Brett and I suddenly have the freedom to lie in bed and talk. We aren’t straining our eyes trying to read by the light of the iPhone flashlight app. There is finally one place in our house that isn’t stuffed with baby paraphernalia. It’s the one grown up room we have, akin to the living room at your parent’s house that you weren’t allowed to play in because that’s where mom kept all the nice stuff. Oh, you didn’t have that room? Apparently you didn’t have horribly destructive brothers who broke lamps when acting out scenes from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Go ninja, go ninja, go!*
It’s only been a week and as Max (and his teeth) continue to grow, I know the sleep routine will change again. For now I will bask in the glory of longer stretches of uninterrupted sleep and I will try not to beat myself up over keeping Max in our room for as long as I did.
Will Max’s future (but not any time soon) siblings sleep in their own room before they reach 5 months old?
Indubitably.
*(Disclaimer: Don’t get all “Cry it out is bad” on me. If he starts to wail, we immediately comfort him.)
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