Doing what works

I don’t know if it is related to the full moon, growth spurts (my personal guess) or the busyness of our days, but about once a month, Fyo our now 13 month old baby who sleeps with my husband and I, tosses and turns, kicks and crawls his way through his night of sleep. He nurses constantly, not in that sleepy sweet way that is as relaxing for me as it is for him, but in that way as if he’s ravenous and can’t possibly get enough milk. He pushes his feet into my stomach and pushes himself away as he nurses. He pulls himself away, rolls over, latches himself on again, grabs my other non-nursing nipple and begins the whole gymnastics routine again.
In the morning, my husband and I sit at the breakfast table with our coffee and stare into space, until one of us – usually my husband - says, “I think I slept, but I feel exhausted.” And I usually on these mornings feel a little bruised. On one particular morning, when I tell my husband, that I spent the night with Fyo’s feet in my stomach and my breast being pinched and that I felt exhausted and bruised, my husband said, “I think it’s time to wean him.” I wasn’t quite prepared for this response. Generally my husband loves that Fyo is still nursing and has no qualms whatsoever with Fyo’s love of extended breastfeeding. “I don’t think it’s working any more.” My husband continues.
My bruised stomach sinks. I was exhausted and I did feel bruised. I also did not enjoy the occasional night where Fyo in bed with us was as restful as a carnival, but I wasn’t necessarily ready to give up all together either.
Kent continued again, “I’d like to be able to put him down in the evening and have some alone time. It’d be nice to not have to nurse him down.”
I could see his point, but getting Fyo to sleep without nursing him down didn’t sound easy either. Other than wearing him out and letting him fall asleep on his own accord – like he did in the stroller or ergo carrier – I don’t know how to put Fyo to sleep. The idea of giving up nursing Fyo down to sleep left me feeling slightly overwhelmed, as if I suddenly had no idea how to mother my toddler. It also left me sad. I began to realize that I continued to nurse Fyo as much for my own comfort as for his.
My husband and I went on to have a nice day though part of me stayed in this mental no man’s land of nagging self-doubt. I tried to imagine the future of getting a 13-month old to sleep on his own and saw only nights full of crying and family frustration. We rented bicycles and rode around an island off the coast of Singapore. We ran into a friend of my husband’s from work who had also rented a bicycle to ride around the island. Eric, was in Singapore for the same project as my husband. He had left his wife and nine-year-old daughter at home in Los Angeles as his time in Singapore was indefinite.
We stopped to take a rest and drink a coconut. Fyo had fallen asleep in his bicycle seat. We took him out so he could finish his nap on Daddy’s chest. We got to talking to Eric, but out of the blue, I interrupted the conversation and asked, “Hey, do you remember if when your daughter had growth spurts if she tossed and turned throughout the night?”
Eric looked at me, then said, “Well, you know, we had her in our bed.”
My husband and I both said, “You did?” At home in Los Angeles, with our network of friends, co-sleeping was normal. In Singapore, no one ever talked about it. I had just assumed we were the only people who slept with their baby. Kent asked, “For how long?”
“Seven years.” Eric said. I asked him how long his wife breastfed. He said, for quite a while, about three years or until just before she started nursery school.
"Oh, I said, so did she nurse her down to sleep at night?"
"Yeah. She'd usually just go to bed too though, because she was always tired." This is what I did. I went to bed early with Fyo, but got up later in the night or early in the morning to get writing or reading done.
I told him about our night of sleep, my love of nursing Fyo down, but Kent’s desire to be able to just put him down and have a free evening.
Eric said, “You want my advice? Just do what works.”
Of course. So easy and so simple. I breathed a sigh of relief. The self-doubt started to ease up. It didn’t matter if we were doing the right thing or the wrong thing. We were doing what worked. And overall, most of what we do with Fyo works and works well. It can be easy to take for granted how well it does work.
On the subway ride home, at the end of a good long day of riding bicycles, and then having a long dinner of fresh seafood, Fyo fell asleep in the Ergo carrier after discreetly nursing. I rubbed my nose in his soft reddish blond hair. I looked over at my husband and said, “This works.”
“Yes, yes it does,” he said.