Last week, as F hit six months, I decided that I’d celebrate by moving him into his own room.
For a start, I’d finally rebuilt his cot after the move (and by ‘I’ I mean ‘my Dad’), my daughter was away for the night and we’re now down to a solid five-eleven feeds per night. And no, that’s not a typo. Let’s just say my eye bags have eye bags.
Anyway, having decided it couldn’t get much worse, I thought I’d give moving him out of my room a try. Perhaps it would be the sleep miracle I needed? Just like I was promised weaning would be. Or that he would learn to roll over. Or anything else people say to give me false hope and probably to stop me moaning about how tired I am. Let’s just say, it doesn’t work – I loves a good moan!
I have to admit it started pretty well.
F went to bed a little earlier than normal and slept a good four hours – the longest he’s slept in one go since Sunday 24 September (ie, 18 weeks and – yes – I am keeping count). That night he did seven hours and it was glorious.
‘This could work,’ I thought, as I stumbled down the hallway. ‘I’ll just give him a feed now and then perhaps he’ll do another four hours and then it’s basically morning.’
Three hours later he was still awake. I tried shushing, singing, rocking, begging and praying. He’d fall asleep but, as soon as he touched the mattress, he’d waken up. I was just about to attempt putting him down for the twelve billionth time when, in a rare moment of 3.30am mental clarity, I realised I was being ridiculous. Why was I even doing it? I didn’t even mind him being in my room, after all, there’s no one else in there!
So I gave up.
I took him back to my room where he slept for another four hours. Perhaps he would have done that in his cot if I’d persevered. Or perhaps he’s just not ready to be in his own room yet.
I haven’t given up completely – I still put him to bed in his room, but he still ends up with me (usually about twenty minutes later). If I’m being perfectly honest, I quite like it. Yes, he may waken up more times then I’d like (many more times), but there is something lovely about hearing his little snuffling next to me. I will try again in a few weeks or months but – for now at least – little F is in my bedroom to stay.