Today I broke a parenting rule. You know...the ones that every mother quickly pulls out of their book shelf and declares it the best book ever written on sleep training: Becoming Baby Wise by Gary Ezzo and Robert Bucknam, The No-cry Sleep Solution by Elizabeth Pantley, or Sleeping Through the Night by Jodi Mindell. Yes, I too have all of those books and have read them cover to cover. But this morning I broke The Rule. You know, the one that they say never, ever do. Do not under any circumstance give your wide wake baby/child attention in the middle of the night---no eye contact, no talking except to say "Night Night softly", simply pat them on the back, and walk away.
This morning I woke up to the sounds of the pitter- patter of my son's feet running to our king size bed. I sat up just in time to see him head for Gene's side to pull on his arm. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was Christmas morning with an over anxious, excited child. Truthfully, it sounded like he had a stuffy nose and was having issues breathing. Gene made one attempt to get Tristan back to bed. We thought he was back down. No sir. This time it was my turn. Laying him in his bed, I tried to get him go back down. I even laid down next to him, hoping he would snuggle up and go back to sleep. My little boy sat up and with a big grin started his happy babbling sounds. WE'RE UP! It's Sunday morning at 3 a.m. Gene has to be at church to do teaching and preaching, which means he needs his sleep. I boldly broke the Golden Rule, took Tristan downstairs to his playroom, made myself some coffee, and then I remembered....
It was almost a year ago when Tristan did this same behavior at an ungodly hour in the morning. At 16 months old, Dad headed off to church while Tristan and I went for a wagon morning ride. Together, Tristan and I experienced our first sunrise. The sun coming up over the horizon reminded me how grateful I was that Tristan made it out of the ICU. He didn't have tubes, cords, or machines to worry about. I could pick my son up and walk around the neighborhood---something I had only dreamt about for the first 6 months of his life.
And the birth of this blog.
Down in his playroom we played together. We knocked Melissa& Doug blocks down, attempted to work on wooden puzzles and practiced our new matching game. With my hot mug of coffee in hand and partial opened eyes, I smiled. Tristan was exceptionally "verbal" at 3 a.m. His babbling and sounds were almost non-stop and LOUD. I was surprised he didn't wake up Daddy. Apparently everything is pretty darn hilarious at 4 a.m. Tristan had a lot on his mind and was happily sharing it with me.
It's 10:20 a.m. and you're finally sound asleep. Tristan, Some day you'll read this blog. As your mom I want you to remember something....Whether you are 2, or 17 coming home from prom, or 21 in college worried about a big exam, or 35 up feeding a newborn son of your own---I will always be happy to sit and listen to you; even at 3 in the morning. These moments are special to me. They remind me how God continues to walk with us --not just in the storm. And. I. Am. So. Thankful.
So never be afraid to smile at me, call me on the phone, or Facetime me at 3 in the morning. I promise those moments will mean the world to me and I will ponder each of them deeply in my heart.
I love you, Tristan Noah Earl Johnson. Always and forever.
(yawning) Can we just agree not to do this every single morning, okay?
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