It begins

We have a baby who is a wonderful sleeper. We (well, I) walk around assured of our excellent parenting because of her ability to sleep. She naps frequently and at length, she sleeps for 12-13 hours at night. She is fairly happy and very mellow all day long.

But lately, the feeling that we are the beneficiaries of an easy baby has been creeping in. Charlotte loves being wrapped up to sleep. I tell people how she goes to bed swaddled. While I cannot see directly into their heads, I can imagine what they are picturing: a tiny, sleeping babe, gently wrapped in a small blanket. When they see me swaddle Charlotte, surprise will often cross their face. “Oh,” they might say as they peep over to watch, “What is that you’re doing to her arms there?”

We used to swaddle Charlotte. We took the parenting class where we were taught the importance of a good tight swaddle. I had seen it work wonders with my nephew. So, we started swaddling Charlotte the day she was born. She loved it. When she would cry out, arms flailing, seemingly hysterical, we would quickly get a blanket around her. Once neutralized, her arms could no longer interrupt her sleep. She would almost immediately conk out, and I would pat myself on the back. As she has grown, those tiny, thin blankets would no longer hold her. The swaddle adapted.

I would say that what we do now is less a swaddle and more a hog tie. In order to put 8-month-old Charlotte to sleep, we lay out two blankets, one on top of the other. We lay her down, and the first blanket is used to straight-jacket her arms. The second blanket, bigger, is wrapped around the straight jacket. While she can, on occasion, break the swaddle, she’s pretty much neutralized in that thing.

But last night it became obvious that the swaddle needs to become a thing of the past. Twice, I went in to her room after hearing her talk at length over the baby monitor. “Coo!” she whispered excitedly. “Caw!” When I leaned over her crib, she was nearly unswaddled, the blankest gathered over her chest and neck. Her body was flipped around, having used her toes to push against the crib bars to spin around. When she saw me lean over, eyes bleary with sleep, she gurgled loudly and giggled.

I rapidly swaddled her and before I was to the door, she was back asleep.

And two things became painfully clear:
First, Charlotte sees swaddling as the cue to sleep. When unswaddled, it is time to play. And,
second, we will not be able to contain her in the hog tie much longer.

I was not the perfect parent I had believed.

So, today we begin. The swaddling must end, and it could be a tough one.
Stay tuned.