We went to the cinema to watch Bridget Jones, and it was the first contact nap she’d had since December 2nd.
December 2nd was a normal day, that wouldn’t have taken on any significance, if I hadn’t looked back and realised that was the last one. You never know when things will be the last until they are.
In those early days, she would only ever sleep on me. She wouldn’t go down in her bedside crib. I found it so stressful. It was impossible to do anything. All I could do was lie as still as possible and watch television all day.
It’s weird how writing that it sounds like heaven. On paper, who doesn’t want to lie down on the sofa snuggling their baby watching TV all day?!
In practice, it was stifling. No movement. Hours of passively watching TV is torture for a person who loves to use their body and their mind. I gave up reading books because sometimes turning the page would disturb her. And I couldn’t disturb her. Wouldn’t.
I would beat myself up, thinking: ‘I guess I’m just a person who watches Netflix all day. That’s who I am now,’ until a friend gave me some really good advice. Slow down. It won’t last forever. “One day, she will go down for naps and you’ll miss it when she does.”
I believed her. I submitted to snuggles. Shifted my mindset to let go and enjoy holding her. I managed to binge series’ without feeling guilty. All the while still practising, still trying to get her to nap by herself.
Time works above anything else. There is no rushing these things. They happen when they happen. And it happened. She learned how to fall asleep in her cot.
I got small sections of time back, nap by nap. First, just the morning one, then the lunchtime one, too. Washes went on, food got made from scratch rather than bunged in the oven from frozen. I put on slightly nicer clothes and my daughter learned how to self-soothe.
Then one day, December 2nd, she fell asleep on me on the sofa for what would be the last time.
It was winter and pitch black and I put the blue blanket over her like a duvet and held her to my chest. I put the TV on with the volume down and waited until she woke up.
The next time I tried this same thing, she wriggled and cried. I put her down in her crib instead, and she fell asleep.
She had learned to nap without me. Without the warmth of my chest. It was what I had wanted. And I didn’t want it at all.
If I could go back, I would appreciate every single moment of those early contact naps. They only lasted three months. It felt like forever. Now it feels like a gust of wind that has gone past.
But then, we went to watch Bridget Jones at the cinema. At Baby Club, you get your own sofa. It’s cosy and they bring you a piece of cake. You feel like a princess.
My baby looked around. She loved seeing the other babies. She babbled and watched some of the film. She grew tired. I rocked her; she snuggled. And then she fell asleep on my shoulder.
It was worth every penny of the ticket price, even if I’d not seen a moment of the film.
And now I have a new date for our last contact nap.
February 20th.
And I will hold onto it until I manage to snag another one.
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