When our first son was born we were more protective than the best (or worse) of all parents. Like caring, loving parents we rocked him to sleep; we used an electric heating pad to warm up his crib so the cold sheets wouldn’t wake him from his heavenly sleep. Whatever he wanted, he received!
Sound familiar? It might, but we carried it far too far! For example, toward the end of my third year in medical school I was up late finishing a big paper. Mary was just into the second trimester of her second pregnancy and was exhausted from it and from caring for our toddler, yet, she was busy typing my paper. Yes, I could type then and still can, but Mary was a fast and accurate typist and I rated my typing speed in errors per minute not words per minute and I still do. Back then there was no such thing as automatic error correction, or spell check, and white-out hadn’t been invented either. Mary, on the other hand, didn’t need an eraser. I was, and still am, fortunate to have her at my side.
It was nearing 3 AM. I was studying and waiting for Mary to finish the great tome when Baby awoke in tears. He wanted a stroller ride. Being a dutiful Dad, I put on my shoes and coat, bundled up the little ball of love, packed him in the stroller and off we went to the park. Sherman Park in Milwaukee was a busy place in the daytime, not so in the middle of the night. It was earl April and in Wisconsin there was lots of snow on the ground. Still, it was a pleasant break from study and even if this toddler didn’t deserve it, I did!
But he soon tired of a pleasant stroll and wanted a bit of action, “Run” he called out. “Run!”
I picked up speed as I enjoyed the fresh air and the feel of my heart pumping wildly in my chest. What a great life! Then a car drove past and slowed to look at this obviously insane man running through the park in the dark of night with a baby in a stroller . He stopped a few yards in front of us. I could hear my heart pounding against my chest like a blacksmith’s mallet forming steel against his heavy iron anvil. As I neared the car the driver gunned his engine and disappeared in the night. But, it gave me pause!
What if the guy in the car wanted to kidnap my precious son? Would he be back? What the heck (I didn’t use the other H word back then) was I thinking? What was wrong with me? What if a police officer saw me? I had no ID on me. Quickly I slowed my pace, did a 180 and walked the stroller and its priceless contents back home.
Opening the door of our apartment I declared, “Mary, we are nuts!” Then to prevent her from being offended and stop tying I added, “Or at least I am! I am going to stop acting like a fool and become a real father! Enough of this baby leading us around!”
“Great!” she answered. “I’m about finished here. What’s your plan?”
I didn’t tell her, I showed her. I gently place our bundle of joy on his cold mattress, pulled the covers up, kissed him on the cheek, turned off the light, walked out of the room, and closed the door.
You might think Sean was upset. Well, if you did, you would be understating his emotion. He cried for 45 minutes but by the time Mary had finished the paper, and I proofed it, little baby boy was sleeping.
The next evening we followed the same routine – the same, without the stroller ride – he cried for bout 20 minutes and slept the rest of the night. Third night, same story, except that night he cried only 10 minutes. That was it! After that he never cried when we put him in bed. He smiled, lay his beautiful blond locks on the sheets and woke rested and happy in the morning.
Having learned the lesson the hard way, here’s what I advise parents about babies and sleep. Never rock your baby to sleep. Do rock him, but before he goes to sleep, put him in bed. If he falls asleep while nursing or feeding, wake him and then put him in bed. Read a bed time story to your kids starting around 9 months, then turn off the lights. Easy as that!
If you have already established the bad habits like I did, you will have to face 45 minutes of crying the first night, and two more nights of feeling like the worse parents in the world. Your other choice is becoming a slave to an infant, a toddler, a child, and worse of all, a teenager, with all the problems that go with that kind of pampering. And, I doubt if the problems will go away even after your 18 year sentence is served!
I hope you enjoyed my little story and found some humor in it. And in case you’re wondering. Baby is a well adjusted, successful professor of pediatric ophthalmology at a very prestigious medical school. I hope not “in spite” of our parenting!