Cry Baby, Cry Baby!

It's been 4 months and I'm feeling pretty confident about my mothering skills. This is a short list of things I know I do pretty well:

• Breast feeding (baby and I cried together the first month trying to master this one)
• Folding diapers so small I can fit 20 of them in my little wastepaper basket
• Catching drool before it hits the carpet
• Anticipating where spit up will fly (or which area of the shirt it will land on) based on a burp
• All the lyrics to "The Wheels on the Bus"
• How to hold and bounce her with one arm - this is Major!
• How to get all the filth out of those wee little neck folds
• Not panicking when I see vomit seep inbetween floorboards
• The proper position to hold her while racing to the changing table and hearing the dread swish sound
• Holding my breath for 45 seconds while I clean up what caused that swish sound
• How to make my baby happy

This last one is my biggest achievement. Through illness, vaccinations, naked time when the heat is out, and the big scary bathtub I know how to make my girl smile - even laugh - when times are tough. But the one place I can't seem to make her happy is in her crib at bed time.

I've scoured the Internet and have been appauled by batshit crazy articles. One "expert" on babycenter went to so far as to say, "when infants are left to cry themselves to sleep, they are forced to conclude that they are not lovable enough to engage their parents' desires to comfort them." Are you friggin' kidding me? My 4 month old only speaks in gibberish and can't close her fingers into a fist when I'm trying to get her hand through a sleeve, yet she's cognitive enough to deduce that my not picking her up as soon as she cried means I'm witholding my love from her for philosophical reasons? The Internet really is a melting pot of morons (myself and readers excluded, of course). Don't believe me? Read this idiot's entire article at http://www.babycenter.com/404_are-we-damaging-our-baby-by-letting-him-cry-himself-to-sleep_2644.bc and do your best not to try punching her through the screen (it will only hurt your screen and she'll still have her day job).

So here's my routine - and I've been sticking to it!

• 9:30pm - Tova finally settles down and gives a yawn
• 9:32pm - Jammies
• 9:34pm - 2 books (sometimes 3 if she's comfy)
• 9:40pm - turn out the light, turn on the nightlight, and settle in for a final feeding - you know the kind where you gaze into one another's eyes and hold on to each other a little tighter knowing it will be a whole 9 hours before you're in one another's arms again...
• 9:50pm - she's not yet fallen asleep but those eyelids are droopy enough to make a basset hound jealous
• 9:51pm - carry my sweety gently to the bed, give her a final little smooch and lay her down on her ba-

WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Yeah, she's the picture of perfection until her back touches the mattress and then she's a banshee trolling the house for souls and eardrums. So what do I do? I lean in and give her a kiss, stroke her cheek and make sure she sees me looking lovingly at her through the retched shrieks. I tell her I love her and back out of the room. I let her cry for 5 whole minutes at which point I walk back in and pick her up. She immediately ceases screaming, holds me tightly and nuzzels into my neck. I give her a kiss and big hug and tell her I love her. I gently set her back down and Waaaahh! It all begins again. I back out of the room and let her cry for 10 minutes at which point it stops as suddenly as it began. I peek in and see her sucking her fist and 1...2...3...4... it's fallen to her side and she's asleep.

She will now sleep all the way until 7:34am (yes, it's that exact).

It all looks great on paper, but when it's happening I feel like the world's worst parent - really neglectful and horrid and deserving of many warts.

I'm hoping it will get better, that she'll cry less as time goes by and realize that I am right outside the door and ready to spring into action. She will learn that she can soothe herself to sleep and gain great confidence (and great sleep) from the experience. But that shrieking, like she's been stuck with a pin, it eats at me when it's happening.

I know I'm doing a good job though. I know because at 7:34am when she coos into the monitor and I walk into her room that before I say good morning and sing her the good morning song she's got her feet in her hands and looks my way with the biggest smile she can possibly give. It makes rainy Portland mornings a lot sunnier.