Family Centered

I participated in an online survey once where I was asked the question, "Would you consider your life (as a parent) to be parent-centered or child-centered?"

The survey was pretty open-ended and I don't remember what its purpose was. However, I remember thinking at the time that the "right" answer was probably supposed to be child-centered. Parent-centered sounds old-fashioned, controlling, cold. Selfish even. Maybe it's just the part of the world I live in. But I think most of us know that if parenting revolves around the parent, things tend to fall apart. We want to love our children well. We want to love them better than we love ourselves.

But while parenting shouldn't be about the parent, I don't think it should be about the child, either. The child doesn't exist in a vacuum. The child exists in a family.

I've always been irrationally annoyed when people other than my child call me mama. I know that most of the time, the intent is empathetic at best and innocent at worst. But here's the deal--I am a lot more than just a mama. To Peregrine, sure, that's what I am. That's how he knows me. But to other people, I'm a wife, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a teacher, a friend. I'm Rachel. Not just one aspect of Rachel, one specific relationship Rachel occupies. And this is coming from a very maternal person. My parents frequently called me "little mama" as a child, because of my constant mothering: dolls, stuffed animals, little sisters, pet ducks, imaginary children, even pine branches and wood blocks (true story--the pine branch's name was Heidi and the block's was Baby Jesus). I have always had a thriving maternal instinct, and I absolutely love being a mama. But it's not the only thing I am.

Somewhere there exists a picture of me nursing "Baby Jesus." Let's just go with documentation of me interacting with a real child.

When you add a new person, irreversibly, to your family, you don't lose what you were before. You don't start with a blank slate. When you get married, you don't erase everything that came before him. You change it and grow it and add to it, sure. But you don't throw the old away. And when you become a mother, things change and grow and morph again. Sometimes the change is magical and exhilarating, sometimes it's messy and complicated. But it's a change, an addition; not a completely new start. The baby isn't suddenly the only thing that matters. The baby becomes a member of something bigger than just parenting. The baby becomes part of your family.

There's a lot of pressure on moms, particularly stay-at-home moms, to completely immerse themselves in mom-ness. It's kind of impossible not to. I am mama twenty-four solid hours a day, seven solid days a week. I can't separate myself from that role. Every shower I can't lose myself in, every errand I have to postpone because hungry monster can't wait one second longer, every Saturday I can't sleep in, reminds me of that. It would be so easy to sink into that role and let it become me, simply because it is so all-consuming.

I think assuming there are two options in life as a parent--parent-centered and child-centered--misses the point. It's not about Peregrine. It's not about me, or even Andrew and me. It's about all of us--the unique little family created by Andrew, Peregrine, and me together. And in about six months, it will all change again. We'll add another person to that mix, and it will be about that family, which will be very much the same in some ways, and very much different in others. We'll change. Our parenting will change. But we'll still be us. We'll still be family.

Andrew and I have talked about this a lot as since we've been parents. We don't always make decisions based on what's best for Peregrine. Something in me feels awful admitting that, and I think it shows how guilty we can feel stepping outside the role of mama mama mama all the time. Of course, he's the little dependent one, and his needs, when they are genuine needs, come first. When I am sick and he is sick, I take care of him. When we're both hungry, he eats first. When we're both tired, I put him to bed before going to bed myself. Regardless of how I feel or what I want, he is the child and I am the adult and it is my sacred responsibility to care for him, always. But sometimes it isn't black and white. Sometimes needs and wants and preferences are all mixed up. Sometimes my needs are bigger than his, in the moment. Sometimes our wants conflict. Sometimes Andrew and I need something together, or Andrew and Peregrine, or Peregrine and me. Sometimes we have to compromise on things.

When I finally came up with an answer to the survey question, I said I hoped my life was neither parent-centered nor child-centered, but family-centered. And that is what I hope. It's who I want to be as a parent and a person. I won't be raising Peregrine forever. I won't be mama-all-the-time forever. But, by God's grace, our family will still be there. Changed, yes. Grown, yes. But still us.

Book Review: Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child

I don't read parenting books very often. I don't necessarily have anything against them; I just tend to learn more from other peoples' stories and experiences. But every now and then, I come upon a resource that proves itself invaluable.

I first borrowed Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, by Marc Weissbluth, from my sister-in-law, who had been singing its praises for months before Peregrine had any sleep issues. When I finally borrowed it from her, she warned me that I would be wanting my own copy before too long. She was right. I almost never buy books, because I almost never read the same book twice. But this one? I reference it constantly.

I recommend this book to so many of my friends, and not because I agree with everything in it. But it has helped me so much. I really wish I had read it before having a child (and that's something I rarely ever say!). Looking back, I'm not sure I would have done that much differently in terms of the way I handled Peregrine's sleep habits in his early infancy. But, had I read this book, I would have understood a lot more about baby sleep. There was just so much I didn't know. I truly thought Peregrine would just sleep when he was tired, and be awake when he wasn't. Little did I know my child. By simply understanding typical waking/sleeping cycles better, and tweaking my routines accordingly, I was able to help Peregrine sleep hours longer than he had been before. He is a much more peaceful child for being able to sleep well.

So here's my more-in-depth review of it. I'll focus less on my personal opinions/experiences with Weissbluth's methods and beliefs, and focus more and how it functions as a parenting tool on the whole.

What I love:

1.) Lots of information on typical baby sleep patterns, and how to use these natural patterns to guide a baby's routine. I'll admit, this book has a lot of words to plow through. Although there is plenty of practical advice, you have to wade through a fair amount of facts and information as well. Perhaps, as a more experienced parent, I would have found this frustrating. But, as a new parent, there was so much I didn't know. And I found half the information reassuring (it's normal for a young infant's nap patterns to be sporadic!), and the other half very eye-opening (you mean crying is a late sign of tiredness?) Just having this store of knowledge was immensely helpful to me. And putting a baby to sleep is so, so very much easier when you are following their natural patterns and know how to recognize signs of readiness for sleep.

2.) Emphasis on sleep cycles instead of rigid schedules. While Weissbluth does advocate scheduling babies' sleep, he gives general ideas and guidelines instead of specific clock-times. And he does a good job of outlining a parent-directed nap and bedtime schedule, while still taking babies' needs and day-to-day quirks into consideration. He will provide a general daytime-schedule idea for, say, a six-month-old, and then explain how you might adapt the schedule if the baby seems unusually tired, or refuses to sleep, or takes a catnap in the car at an odd time. He places a lot of emphasis on understanding a baby's natural rhythms and finding the right "window" in which to encourage sleep. The schedule examples he gives are not blueprints to be followed, but ideas of when most babies of a certain age have these "windows" open.

3.) Understanding that different families have different needs and preferences. For the most part, Weissbluth grasps extremely well the concept that families are very diverse. His suggestions often include adaptations for breast vs. bottle fed babies, or babies in a crib vs. babies in a family bed. Also, while Weissbluth definitely approves of (and advocates) "crying it out" as part of sleep training, he fully acknowledges that not all parents, and not all babies, are okay with that. He gives alternative approaches, and lists the advantages and disadvantages of each. And on the whole, he is immensely respectful of the variety of choices parents make surrounding baby sleep.

4.) A generally gentle, well-explained argument for actively promoting healthy sleep habits, while still understanding the needs and biology of infants. Weissbluth is pro-sleep-training, and there is no way to read this book and not read that. But, for the most part, it is very graciously presented. I've read a lot of baby-scheduling and sleep-training advice where I find the arguments caustic and just plain untrue (seriously? I'm setting my kid up to "run the house" someday because his nap times are flexible?), but Weissbluth's arguments make sense and are, on the whole, very compassionate and well-thought-out. He speaks to both extremes of the baby-sleep-philosophy continuum, reminding parents both that good sleep is a need and it's okay to actively manage our babies' sleep habits, and also that babies have unique needs and personalities and we can't expect them to simply adapt to a prearranged rigid schedule.

Cautions/what I didn't love:

1.) The obvious dogmatism of a parenting book, with some (I think) odd emphases. Any time you read a parenting book, you have to read it with a grain of salt. People write because they're passionate about topics. Although this book is less dogmatic than others I've read, it still has its moments. And although Weissbluth is quite good at adapting his general principles for different situations, there are a few he doesn't budge on, and I'm not sure why. Early bedtimes, for instance. I get that children need a lot of sleep. And that if your child will wake up at 6 every morning, no matter what, you should prioritize getting her to bed early. But he's adamantly against late bedtimes, even when they also correspond with late wakeup times. Even with his explanations, I still find it hard to believe that a child who sleeps 9-9 is sleeping far less healthily than a child who sleeps 7-7.

2.) A bit of a sarcastic/dismissive attitude toward attachment parenting. While Weissbluth generally handles most attachment-parenting-type concerns (i.e. will allowing my child to cry during the night cause him not to trust me?) with a lot of gentleness, he can seem a bit rude about the philosophy in general. I get it, he's writing a sleep training book, and attachment parenting philosophy is typically against sleep training. The debate is nothing new. But, I can imagine that some of his comments could be very off-putting to people who follow attachment parenting philosophy and are looking for sleep answers. However, for the record, my sister-in-law loves this book. And she is a pretty diehard attachment parent. You take what works for you, and leave the rest.

3.) An assumption that your life can, and should, revolve around your child's naps and bedtimes. Obviously, any parent's life does, to an extent. But I think Weissbluth carries it a bit far. Sleep is extremely important for anyone's well-being (child or adult!) and it is worth making it a priority. But I think he runs the risk of setting people up for unnecessary guilt because they have to get out of the house sometimes, or because they have older children who want to be involved in sports or other activities. Balance and health are always good things. (And what balance and health look like will of course be dependent on the family in question).

I would recommend this book to:

Pretty much every new parent I know. Or anyone whose baby, toddler, or older child is struggling with sleeping well. It's easy to read, it's immensely practical, and it has so many adaptations for so many different situations. There's not many books I give almost-blanket recommendation to. But this is one of them.

I would not recommend this book to: 

I had to think long and hard about this one. Basically, there are two categories of people I wouldn't recommend this to. If you already have a child who sleeps very well, I can see this book just causing unnecessary stress (my kid sleeps 9 to 9 and always has and all of a sudden this is a problem!). No need to read this book (or any sleep book, for that matter!) if your child sleeps well and you are happy with the sleep system your family has in place. Also, if you really can't stomach reading about cry-it-out at all (and some people can't, and that's totally fine) and are adamantly against the idea of sleep training, honestly, it probably isn't worth it. There are other books that address specific sleep issues (always needing to nurse to sleep, for instance) and advocate a never-let-cry approach. Probably better to read one of those.

Happy sleeping, everyone! Because, in any sleep arrangement, schedule, or lack thereof, the most important thing, as Weissbluth would say, is a well-rested family.

End of an Era

Peregrine weaned himself last week. And for the first time in seventeen months, I'm not nursing. Ever. I'm wearing normal bras again. And just rocking Peregrine to sleep.

It was the right time. He was ready, and I was ready, too. I know people who nurse all the way through pregnancy, and if I'd needed to, I think I could have. But there is so much strain on my body right now. Feeding a toddler who eats his weight in other food is just not its highest priority.

Breastfeeding Peregrine has had its stresses and challenges, and that deserves a post of its own someday. I think breastfeeding struggles are a lot more common than not. But honestly, the weaning process has felt very easy, and gentle, and natural to me. As much as Peregrine pretty much decided within days that he was done, it felt right. Sad, perhaps, but right.

I've never fed Peregrine entirely on demand. He went from not demanding enough in his first few days to demanding until he vomited in the days that followed. He's never been great about regulating his body, and even with solids, he doesn't do well with snacking all the time. If he doesn't eat substantial meals, he's perpetually hungry and grumpy, even if he's constantly eating. He does better with large meals, followed by periods of not eating. So nursing has been for him primarily a source of food. Comforting food, to be sure, but not just comfort. And as he's gotten older, he's become very used to being told nursing is all-done, or that he can nurse later. It's never fazed him. And who knows, I may do this very differently based on another baby's needs, but I think it has made weaning Peregrine fairly trauma-free.

He's been pretty set in his ways, though, for the last few months, nursing in the morning, at naps, and at night; and I'd wondered how I was going to help him transition out of those habits. I wasn't in a hurry until I got pregnant, and then it just started hurting so much. So one day, I tried giving him a pacifier at the beginning of his nap routine (I usually give him one after he nurses). He took it, didn't ask to nurse, and never asked again before naps. Then I got sick, and Andrew started getting up with him, so he quit the morning nursing as well. I'm sure my milk supply plummeted then, and I could tell he was no longer interested in the night nursing. Honestly, I kept that one up for myself. I couldn't help but remember all the days (and nights!) of nursing my sweet baby, staring at his face, holding him, letting my body feed his. I think it suddenly hit me that once I stopped, that was it. My baby would grow up, if only a bit more, and growing up is irreversible.

But he was ready, and if my soul clung to my baby, my body was ready to let him go. I have another little one to feed, and that little one needs it more. I gave him the pacifier at night, and he didn't look back. I offered to nurse him the next day, just to try to get rid of some of the milk my body still thought it should be producing, but he spurned me in a very toddler-like way. I never really thought my offer to nurse would ever be met with his little high-pitched "no!". The same "no!" he gives me when I give him food he doesn't want, or ask him if he needs his diaper changed, or, you know, suggest anything that might have been my idea first.

So there he goes. My baby just grew into a toddler. It happens, and it will happen again. My toddler will become a boy. My boy will become a man (terrifying, I know!). And I will always feel the tiny piece of heartache that goes with losing someone I knew, someone I desperately loved. But that's how it's meant to be. He'll grow his wings, one feather at a time. And that's good. It's very good.

But you know what? I don't think I have a single picture of me nursing him. I wish I had at least one. Just as a tangible piece of memory.

The Top Ten Things I Don't Like Doing While Fighting Morning Sickness

Because if I don't have a sense of humor about this, it's much harder to deal with. So here goes:

10. Taking Out The Trash
I avoid this one at all costs, actually. And it's an easy one to avoid. Because I have a fantastic husband. Trash smells disgusting.

9. Breastfeeding
It hurts. A lot. I really wanted to wait to get pregnant until I felt like weaning Peregrine was an option. But I've hated the thought of weaning him cold turkey. Fortunately, he's eased out of nursing really naturally. And now he's stopped completely, on his own. It's bittersweet, it really is. I was ready, he was ready, but still, I'll never nurse him again. And that makes me kind of sad. I've spent hours looking down at his sweet little nursing face.

8. Parenting
I know, this one is kind of non-negotiable. But sometimes I wish so badly I could just check out, not be on all the time. I remember, when I was pregnant with Peregrine, thinking how much worse the morning sickness would be if I had an older kid. It is worse. It's also better, because I know I've been through it before. But still, I would love to just check out sometimes. Here's to Peregrine's godparents' upcoming visit!

7. Tasting My Own Mouth
Tell me, why is so much saliva necessary for growing a baby? The tiredness, I get. The nausea, I get too. The excessive amounts of saliva, not so much. It's absolutely disgusting. And this time around, my mouth tastes like the powdered acidophilus my sister used to feed her rabbits (yes, I tried it, all my sisters did). It's this mild, sickly-sweet taste. I cannot kick it. And up until the day before yesterday, every single thing I put in my mouth made it worse. I tried everything. Then I discovered lemon juice in water. Thank you, lemon juice in water, for being my new best friend.

6. Eating And Staying Hydrated.
When I'm not pregnant, I eat three meals. And if I'm hungry, I wait for the next one. And I'm rarely ever hungry. When I'm pregnant, I have to eat, right when I'm hungry. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure my stomach starts eating itself. It's a terrible feeling. So I just eat, all the time. I hate spending that much time eating. Especially when my stomach decides it doesn't really like being full either.

5. Going To Work
With Peregrine, I would literally sit in the car and cry because I didn't want to go to work. Now, I just grit my teeth and tell myself I'll make it through the day. Maybe because my alternative isn't sitting at home and doing nothing. Actually, once I get to work, it's usually not as bad as I think it will be. But getting ready for work and anticipating it and thinking about all the days I still have to deal with both work and morning sickness...I proposed to Peregrine that we both just hibernate for the next few weeks. He wasn't on board.

4. Changing Poopy Diapers
Yeah, gross. And much, much grosser in cloth diapers, because then I have to wash them in the toilet. I've started using a lot more disposable diapers. But here's the thing. Murphy's Law, beast that it is, dictates that every time I put Peregrine in cloth, he will poop. Even if he's already pooped three blowouts earlier in the day. I'm not kidding. I've tested this theory time and time again. Enough that I think there's something to it. Like maybe, Peregrine actually finds cloth diapers more comfortable for pooping.

3. Getting Out Of Bed
I forget, when I'm sleeping, that I have morning sickness. Then I wake up and I remember. Making myself get up and start the day is really hard. Don't polar bears hibernate throughout their pregnancies?

2. Opening The Fridge
Yes, this is worse than getting out of bed, and usually, it's even worse than changing poopy diapers. I have no idea why. Smelling cooking food, I can handle. Even cooking is not that bad. But opening the fridge and smelling the hodge-podge of food, some of it not so fresh, gets me every time. I've taken to planning exactly what I want out of the fridge, then holding my breath and diving in for it. With Peregrine, I could smell the fridge even when it was closed. From the other room.

1. Getting The Flu
Takes the cake. I don't think I have ever felt so utterly sick in my life. Fortunately, we are all pretty much over it. Except my lingering cough. And honestly, it's put some perspective on what would otherwise be my worst few weeks of morning sickness. At least I don't have the flu anymore.

Unfortunate Events

I'm sick right now. Really, really sick. As in, I haven't felt this awful since possibly my freshman year of college. Plus, I have the grossness of morning sickness to deal with. And I have an also-sick poor little needy toddler who is absolutely done with mommy lying in bed and never doing anything fun.

Family plagues are my absolute least favorite part of parenting. I've said this for awhile, and when I'm well, I always think it can't be that bad. Then I get sick, and Peregrine gets sick, and if I'm horribly unlucky, Andrew gets sick, too, and then I remember--it really is that bad. Maybe I'll change my mind when I have to deal with epic tantrums or teenager problems, but right now, I'll hold my current stance. I hate family plagues.

I got this one in Colorado, where I flew last week with Peregrine (but not Andrew) to attend my grandpa's 90th birthday party. I'm glad I went, and the party was very special, but I could have done without the flu. It didn't help that my mom was sick, too, and we both lay around and gave Peregrine minimal attention. I literally fantasized about going to the hospital. I've never wanted to go to the hospital before, nor wanted to trade my own bed for anything, but the thought of lying there with nurses--lots of them--just taking care of me, and giving me IVs and things so I didn't have to worry about eating--it was wonderful to imagine.

I flew back to Seattle two days ago, and I seriously doubted whether I would make it. I considered postponing my flight, but I wanted my own bed so badly, and most of all, I wanted Andrew. My mom could do some things with Peregrine, but he was away from home, and cranky, and the crankier he got, the more he wanted me and only me. I just couldn't do it. So I flew home. I almost passed out going through security, from the effort it took to hoist my bag (all 5 pounds of it) onto the conveyor belt. Peregrine was squirmy and irritable on the plane, and kept asking to get down. He slept some, but not much, and I just didn't have the patience or the energy to keep him entertained. So I got out a giant bag of goldfish and gave it to him. He ate his weight in goldfish, between episodes of trying to dump the bag out and squish all the crackers for no other reason than to elicit a reaction from me. Then, about a half hour from the ground, he gave this violent heave and started throwing it all up. I saw it coming, and caught it all in his blanket, but it was so gross. My one thought, as mouthful after mouthful of half-digested goldfish came pouring into the blanket in lap, was, thank goodness I'm stopped up and can't smell anything anymore.

Fortunately, I was seated next to a really sweet mom and teenage daughter, who gave me wet wipes for Peregrine's face, helped me seal all his vomity clothes into barf bags, and then held and dressed Peregrine while I put all my stuff back together. I got off the plane without further incident, Andrew picked me up, and I went to bed and left him to deal with all the dirty clothes and blankets and Peregrine's continued vomiting throughout the day. I've been in bed ever since. My sister-in-law, saint that she is, has come and cared for Peregrine. I can't believe how weak and ill I am. I'm so ready to be done.

And I'm scared for the baby. I've spiked some pretty high fevers over the last few days. I've caught them early, and brought them down, but still, it's scary. I'm only 7 1/2 weeks along. That's a little, fragile being I've got inside me. I've been in touch with my Bellingham midwife--I don't have one yet in Seattle--and she didn't seem overly worried. Neither does Dr. Google (for once!). But I can't help but worry a bit. So if you think of me, pray for me and my tiny one. And the not-so-tiny one. And my wonderful husband, who has taken over sick-baby night duty, and is fighting this thing himself. We could all use some extra prayers.

Some new beginnings

I've been off the radar for awhile, I know, and there have been a lot of reasons, the main one being Christmas. Andrew and Peregrine and I spent the first half of my Christmas vacation in Hawaii with his family. It was wonderful and warm and relaxing, and once Peregrine got used to the idea of sand, he loved playing on the beach. I have pictures, but they're still on my phone. We took a red-eye back to Seattle on Christmas eve, and picked up my family at the airport shortly thereafter. So it's been a crazy busy Christmas, but a good one.

The other big reason I've been a bit out of commission is that I found out, a couple of days before we left for Hawaii, that I am expecting baby #2! I am so excited, if exhausted and sick. I'm not going facebook-public with this yet. But, the circle of people who read my blog is significantly smaller, and I really want to be able to write about this pregnancy as I experience it. 

So far, everything has been pretty much the same as it was with Peregrine. I feel symptoms so early (as in, before I miss my period), and they come on strong from the get-go. Honestly, I'd forgotten just how nasty and disgusting the feeling is. It goes beyond nausea. It's like my whole body is nauseous, not just my stomach.

With Peregrine, though, everything was so new. I had no idea how long this period would last, what kind of foods and stresses my body could tolerate in its new state. It felt so long, and I never really knew what was going on. It's different this time because I know what to expect. I know what my body can handle, and I find myself instinctively doing things that I had to learn how to do before. I'll hold my breath, for instance, before I open a trash can instead of catching a whiff of fresh trash, choking, and then holding my breath. So in that way, it's easier. And I also know I've done it before, I can do it again. I worked four days out of five with Peregrine, and one of those days was ten hours of teaching dance. I didn't skip a day of work due to morning sickness (although I badly wanted to, most days!), and I know I'll survive this one, too.

But on the other hand, it's harder. I have a toddler now. Sure, I worked four days with Peregrine, but I crashed and did nothing in the evenings. Parenting a toddler is 24/7. He gets hungry, he gets bored, and worst of all, he creates poopy diapers that I and my stomach have to change. It worries him when I lie on the floor and close my eyes. He has to confirm I'm okay by sitting on my head, yelling "HI!!!" in my ear, and crawling all over my terribly sore body. He gets whiny and clingy when I'm not my normal self. That's the worst, that I have to be "on" all the time. That I can't just sink into oblivion and try to sleep my nausea away. That my child still poops in his diapers, and if my wonderful husband isn't home, I have to change them. Please, please tell me people survive simultaneous morning sickness and diaper changing. Preferably without vomiting.

So that's the news here. I'll post Hawaii pictures soon. And more pregnancy updates as time allows!

Limits

A few weeks ago, Andrew and I were having dinner with some friends who recently had a baby. Along the way, we got to discussing different parenting styles. Our friends mentioned some other friends who have a very spontaneous approach to parenting and have already taken their months-old baby on several camping trips and vacations.

"I just can't imagine doing that," my friend said, "Don't they ever worry about nap times? I know they'd  go crazy if they had to be tied down to a schedule, but I'd go crazy if I didn't have one!"

I know both moms. They're both wonderful women, and my friends. They both have beautiful, healthy, happy children. But they're different people, with different personalities, and they have different limits.

I think sometimes we'd like to believe that we base all our parenting decisions on philosophical or moral grounds, on what we believe is best for our children. And really, for the most part, this is probably true. But when it comes down to it, we're human. And part of being human means we have unique personalities, and that means quirks, pet peeves, inabilities, intolerances, and physical limitations. A lot of our parenting, for better or worse, is a result of those things.

Selflessness is glorified in motherhood. As well it should be, because it's necessary. I know of few other roles that require such constant setting-aside of ourselves and our desires, except, perhaps, marriage. But sometimes I think mother-sacrifice is put on such a very high pedestal that we feel incredibly guilty at the thought of making any parenting decision based on ourselves or our personalities or preferences. It's much easier to defend our decisions philosophically. It's a lot healthier though, I think, to cultivate a knowledge of our own limits and to be okay with letting them dictate some of our parenting choices. There's a lot of difference between selfishness and simply counting oneself as a valid element of the equation.

So let's talk co-sleeping. I could tell you any number of reasons why I don't usually co-sleep. I could tell you it contributes to unnecessary night-waking, that it is unsafe, that it makes transition to a child's own bed difficult, that it interrupts and complicates a couples' sex life. And I could find any number of testimonials and expert opinions and probably even valid research to prove these things. But those aren't the reasons I don't co-sleep (And I don't actually believe them anyway-- I know co-sleeping can be done (very) safely; I know plenty of families sleep better because they co-sleep; I know that many children make the bed transition easily; I know people have sex in places other than bed.)

I don't co-sleep because I can't co-sleep.

As a rule, I sleep extremely well, and I always have. Typically, I put in about nine hours a night, and before I had Peregrine, I slept, dead out, all night long. I've learned to sleep through all my roommates' various late-night or early-morning habits (including alarms), and it took me only a few weeks of being married to Andrew before I could sleep through his multiple middle-of-the-night bathroom trips.

But if I have any reason to worry about my sleeping so deeply, I won't sleep at all. I have a hard time sharing a bed with people I don't know extremely well, for fear that I'll kick them or steal their covers or pillow in my sleep. If I have an alarm set for a different time than normal, I'll wake up hours before I'm supposed to, in case I don't hear it. And if there's a baby in my bed, I'm terrified I'll forget he's there, and either roll over on top of him, or push him out in my sleep. (And trust me, I've done both to cats. Sorry, cats. But did I ever indicate you were welcome in my bed? No, no I didn't.)

I've read a lot about co-sleeping, and I know these are fears a lot of women have when considering it as an option. And I've read plenty of reassurances explaining that mamas have sixth senses when it comes to their babies, that babies are very different from cats, and that most mothers who decide to co-sleep don't ever worry about rolling over on the baby because they just know they wouldn't. I'm sure this is true for most women who co-sleep. But for me, I'm either sleeping or I'm not.

Once, back when Peregrine was a newborn, I had nursed him in the middle of the night and dozed off while doing it. I woke up, dazed and confused, wondering why I was lying in bed with a baby asleep on my stomach. I checked the clock and two hours had passed. Two hours, and I had no memory of stopping nursing, unlatching Peregrine, or lying down (on the edge of the bed no less). Another time, I started going to sleep as I was putting Peregrine back in his bassinet. I lost my hold on him and he fell. All of six inches, and into his soft little bed, but still, it terrified me. Both incidents terrified me. Mostly because I realized I didn't have the sixth sense. I had no sense when it came to that strange world between sleeping and awake. And so I resolved that, when Peregrine was in my arms, I would always be fully awake, and I would keep myself that way, no matter what it took.

Running up against our limits is hard. Especially when other people don't seem to have them. If it's just basic mother instinct that causes mothers to just feel the presence of their babies in their sleep, what kind of mother am I that I don't have it? And it gets muddier, messier, when the idea of sacrifice comes into the picture. Shouldn't I always put my baby's needs above my own? If I choose not to do something because I have a really hard time with it, isn't that just being selfish? Couldn't I just set my own interests aside, sleep with my baby, and deal with the sleep deprivation like the grownup I am?

But what babies (and older children!) need most are present, engaged, loving parents. Which means that sometimes, parents have to take their own needs, and even preferences, into consideration. Sacrifice that makes us less functional as people isn't meeting our children's needs. It's burning out. Burning out, in the long run, benefits no one. We have to know our own limits and be truthful about them. And we have to be okay with factoring them into our parenting decisions.

Every one of us, without exception, has limits. But we also have strengths. I may not be able to co-sleep with an infant. But I'm a pretty patient person. I'm perfectly willing to let a job take five times as long as it should so that Peregrine can "help" me with it. I don't mind narrating each and every article of clothing I put onto Peregrine or take off of him. I can answer the same question many, many times in a row. I don't get easily touched out. And I compose pretty awesome songs about various aspects of hygiene and safety. Not all mothers can do these things, even the ones that can co-sleep just fine and then be fully awake and functional the next day.

And you know why? Because we're human. None of us is perfect. None of us can give absolutely everything to our children. And that's okay. I think the most important is giving what we can, even when it comes with imperfection. And knowing when we can't give something, and being okay admitting it.