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Entry #12 ~ September 24, 2002
~ Night-weaning

Dear Charon,

During your third year, I felt like you'd never wean. When you turned two and hadn't cut out many nursing sessions since you were a baby, I got a little bit concerned. Other mothers with two-year-olds talked about nursing them only once or twice a day. They were in the process of mourning their nursing relationship, knowing their little one would be ready to say goodbye to it pretty soon.

Not true for you. "Nurse!" was one of the first words you learned, and you used it often. Later, it became a sentence: "I need to nurse, Mom." Not want; need. If I asked you to wait a minute, you had a hard time. "I need to nurse!" you'd tell me, and tears would well up in your eyes.

I'd heard about some gentle weaning tricks mothers could use, and I tried them with you. "Don't offer, don't refuse," was the big one. By the time you were two and a half, I only offered if you were terribly upset or hurt. As for the "don't refuse" part, I was starting to try to gently refuse you. If you asked to nurse, but had nursed less than three hours or so ago, I tried to distract you with a game or a snack. This wasn't working very well, so I decided to try just not refusing you at all for awhile, in order to stick more closely to this piece of advice. For about a week while I tried this, you were almost constantly attached to me. I decided to go back to trying to distract you. It always worked better if I could anticipate when you might ask, and distract you before you asked. I worked at perfecting my mind-reading techniques.

Another piece of advice was never to sit down. Some mothers found that once that lap appeared to the eyes, the possibility of nursing appeared to the brain. I couldn't do this. I was exhausted, and I needed to sit. You were still nursing every two to three hours at night, and so I wasn't getting any long stretches of sleep.

My constant state of exhaustion needed to be addressed. As your third birthday approached, I worked hard to find ways that I could help you not to nurse so often at night. I felt I could handle the daytime nursing (and have more energy and creativity to distract you from it) if I was sleeping better at night. You had slept in our bed with us since you were a baby, and this worked so well for nighttime nursing sessions. I know I got more sleep than many moms of babies, because all I had to do when you woke up was roll over, latch you on, and fall back to sleep again.

Now that you were bigger, you would nurse in ways that would keep me awake, playing with my shirt and my skin, bumping your foot against my leg rhythmically. I was still getting more sleep than I would have with you apart from me at night, but I craved sleeping without interruption for five hours straight.

Some suggested you needed to be moved to your own bed, but I hesitated at this point for a few reasons. Comforting you back to sleep was much easier when you were right next to me, and I thought that even when you stopped nursing, I would appreciate this benefit. I also worried that if I were to take nursing away, you would need the comfort of me next to you even more.

As a last resort, I ordered a book about helping your child to sleep through the night, promising some solutions that didn't use the "cry it out" technique. I told Pete that I wanted us both to read it together, and follow the suggestions for getting you to sleep for longer stretches. The book was wonderful. The ideas and stories in it really helped me to look at the whole picture of your sleep habits. We tried many of the suggestions. You would improve for a couple of days, but then go back to your pattern of nursing every two to three hours. We worked on this for about three months, and then I decided we needed to try something more.

During this whole process, Pete did his best to help out, but I was still the major player in our nighttime routine and getting you to sleep. We decided to try letting him take on some of the direct nighttime parenting. When you woke up one night for what felt like the twentieth time and I was at my wits' end, Pete took you downstairs. You cried in his arms as he took you out, and I felt terrible. Amazingly, once you got downstairs, you stopped crying and settled down to sleep in his arms. We decided this might be the solution.

We tried it again a few nights later. This time, you cried as he carried you out, and you continued to cry when he got you downstairs. I could hear you. I listened, trying to give you both time to settle into a routine together. I don't know how long I waited upstairs, hearing you crying for "mama!" and "nurse!" I do know that I cried, too. Suddenly, I heard stomping sounds. You were having a tantrum about this. I knew Pete would feel bad if I came downstairs; he didn't want us to set ourselves up against each other, with me coming to your "rescue." But I felt awful. I didn't want night-weaning to be a horrible experience, or being with Daddy at night to be some kind of torture to you. I wanted you to wean only if you were fairly ready, and I wanted it to be a positive, growing-up thing. Even if it had to be a little bit painful, I wanted you to know I was going through that pain with you, and that I would help you through it as best I could.

Needless to say, I went down and joined you two. We all came back upstairs, and I nursed you back to sleep in the rocking chair as you calmed down. I hoped we hadn't just taken fifty steps backwards.

I did some more research. There was a section in the book I got called "A Temperate Alternative to Letting Baby Cry It Out." I had read it a few weeks ago, and I got it out to read it again. I also visited message boards and read stories of mothers who were going through the same thing. I found an article describing a night-weaning program recommended by a doctor who was very pro-extended nursing and co-sleeping. I talked to the moms in our playgroup, asking them how night-weaning had occurred for their little ones.

I put together a new plan, using the ideas I thought would work best for you. I added a few ideas of my own. Then I told Pete I was ready to try again.

I decided that I would nurse you to sleep, as always, but that the "nurses" would go to sleep then, too. They would wake up with the sun. (Lucky for you, it was summer, so they woke up at about 5 a.m.) If you woke up before then, I would try to help you to sleep in other ways until then. I explained all of this to you during the day before the first night of our new plan. You listened intently.

That night you fell asleep at around 10:00, and woke again, asking to nurse, at about 1:00 a.m. Even though we had talked this through together, and you had understood, it was still so hard for you. The two of us got up and I wrapped you in your soft, white blanket. You were crying. We rocked and rocked in the rocking chair, talking about how the nurses needed to sleep now, and how I could help you to go to sleep in other ways. You would stop crying and listen to my voice for awhile, or cozy up to me while I sang you a song, but then you'd get worked up and start crying again.

After fifteen minutes or so of this, I felt my resolve melting, so I asked Pete to come over and talk with the two of us. You got very upset then. I'm sure you were thinking that he was going to take you downstairs, away from me. We both reassured you that we would all stay together tonight, and that we would both do what we could to help you to sleep. Your daddy was so sweet. He sat down on the floor next to us, and said to you, in that sweet, calm voice he has, "It's okay to cry, Charon. We know you're sad because you're going to miss the nurses. But the nurses need to sleep. It's dark, and the moon is up, and the nurses need to sleep right now. It's okay to be sad about that." You slowly relaxed in my arms. I think you felt like we understood that this was very hard for you. Soon, you were asleep.

I think you woke up one more time that night, and it was much easier the second time. I think I brought you to the rocking chair again, and hugged you tight as you relaxed and let yourself drift off again.

The rest of the week, it was much easier for you. Usually, you'd let me cuddle you while we stayed in bed. Sometimes, a drink of water would help. Every two or three days, you'd cry a bit, and we'd need to get up and sit in the rocking chair and talk about the nurses being asleep. Once, you asked to go to the window, and so I took you over and raised the shade. "It's dark outside, isn't it?" I asked. "Yes," you said, in that sweet way you have of using the complete word instead of a "yeah." "The playhouse is asleep." "Yes." "The sandbox is asleep." "Yes." "The squirrels are asleep." "Yes." "The trees are asleep." "Yes." We'd go through our litany of sleeping things. You were starting to understand that everything needed to sleep at some point, even your beloved "nurses."

During the day, we'd have conversations about it. "The sun is up!" you'd exclaim in the morning. "Nurses are awake!" Later in the day, you'd come to me. "Nurses not sleep. It's not night. Nurses are awake," you'd remind me. That was the only daytime side-effect of our weaning program, so I felt like this was all okay.

We've been at this for a little over two months now. It's still hard at times, but you're handling it. Last month, you came down with a cold, and so I nursed you through it, day and night, knowing it would help you to recover more quickly. Then, we went back our plan again. You protested a little more loudly the second time around, tired of hearing that the nurses needed to sleep. ("I need to nurse!") One thing that really helped to calm you was when I said, "I know you can do it, hon. You're doing good. It's okay, and you're doing good."

Just recently, when we were visiting my parents, you woke up in the middle of the night and asked to nurse. I said, "What else could help you fall back to sleep?" You said, "Hugs and kisses and water!" So, I squeezed you tight, gave you some smooches, and reached for your cup. After a few swallows, you sighed and snoozed again.

I'm feeling much better now. I regularly get at least five to six consecutive hours of sleep at night. I have more energy during the day, and I sleep better at night, too. Some things I've read explained that you'd be happier, too, but I haven't noticed any changes in you, positive or negative. You are starting to skip your daytime nap more often now. Even when you go to bed earlier, you still make it without nursing until sunrise.

Thank you, my dear, for your hard work. The "nurses" appreciate it so much, and I do, too. I knew you could do it.

I love you,
Mom

The No-Cry Sleep Solution by Elizabeth Pantley