We failed. We failed horribly. We failed miserably. We failed undeniably.
Choose your adverb, it really doesn't matter. We. Failed.
At least that's what I thought as we prepared for our first Skype call with a sleep consultant a couple months ago. As the call slowly connected across a national border, I sat there with my head in my hands. How did it come to this?
In the past three months, Annabelle's sleep had become a nightmare. She wouldn't fall asleep until we sat with her for about 90 minutes every night and then, like a horrible, never-ending alarm, would wake up every night around 1 AM and refuse to go back into her crib. For a while, we took her into our bed and then, in a flash of groggy common sense, we realized at least one of us should sleep. So Bridget and I rotated nights sleeping in the guest room with Annabelle "I put my butt up while I sleep" Briddon.
And if you've ever had an extended period of crappy sleep in your life, you know how terrible it is. You fear bedtime. You're irritable. You can't think. It's awful. I sent up a white flag disguised as a blog post in July.
And that's when Bridget's college friend Kate (who I don't know, but basically love) told us about this sleep consultant she'd used.
"She saved our lives," Kate told Bridget.
"A sleep consultant?" Mike asked Bridget. "That exists? Come on. Are we really at that point? How much will this cost?"
As it turned out, Rock A Baby, run by Desiree Cluff out of Vancouver, had very reasonable prices. (Plus, when you're essentially purchasing sleep, does it really matter?) Still, it was reasonable, and we were excited and a little bit skeptical going into our first Skype call.
Ninety minutes later, we had a plan and a glimmer of hope.
During the next few weeks, we slowly inched our way out of Annabelle's room at bedtime and she slowly gained confidence in her sleeping ability. The biggest change: Choices. Instead of sitting and watching Annabelle play with her feet for 90 minutes, we would say, "Annabelle, it's time to close your eyes. If you aren't ready to do that, Daddy has to leave." She'd cry, realize she was really tired, and be asleep 10 minutes later.
Ninety minutes of "trying to fall asleep" turned into 60. And then 45. And then 30. And then we had a couple nights of uninterrupted sleep.
With applied the "Choices" strategy to food, cleaning up her toys, and other areas of typical toddler frustration. Sometimes it's exhausting to come up with two reasonable options, but it gives Annabelle the feeling that she has control over every situation. (Although let's be honest, she pretty much does.)
After about six weeks, we slowly, cautiously raised our arms in victory. We stopped the weekly chats with Desiree and sunk into our cool, refreshing pillows.
Sure, we still have to figure out the pacifier. And we should probably feed Annabelle something other than her staples of pasta, fruit, pizza, and yogurt. But now, thanks to a sleep consultant (who knew?), we have some energy to tackle the next batch of toddler challenges.
