It's never as bad as you think it's going to be.
Unless it's worse.
Last night Ramona woke at 11:00 and I decided not to nurse her or rock her back to sleep in the hopes of teaching her to self soothe. We held out for a long time. She cried without stopping for an hour and 15 minutes. Up until that point I was holding steady, but when we started to go into that second hour I lost my nerve.
But it wasn't over yet. By that time she was so riled up from crying that it took me two hours to finally get her asleep and in her own bed. Did you hear that last part, "in her own bed"? Yes, I finally let her sleep with us. That is a line I never cross. I will go round and round with her, but I never give in that far. But last night I was so ragged, tired, and guilty that I just caved.
I fought a losing battle from 11 to 2. I went one step forward and countless steps back. She and I are both haggard from last night. We are both distrustful. All was not forgotten this morning. Usually she wakes in the morning, drinks a little milk and then is content to snooze in her crib until I'm ready to get her ready. This morning when I tried to lay her back down she started to cry, just like the night before. And so I carried her around the whole morning. Feeling guilty, feeling tired.
I know I'm really beating the beleaguered mother drum, but I also had no shower. When I attempted to step into the ice cold water I realized my plans were lunacy. You can't take a ice cold shower in winter.
My plans are lunacy. And today I look as bad as I feel.