I quit breastfeeding Ethan at about 9 months. That's when he quit waking up to eat at night, which should, in no way, be confused with when he started sleeping through the night (umm....over 3 years old before that milestone was hit).
When Dylan was born, I thought I'd hit the jackpot. That child slept. And he'd sleep in his own space, nestled snuggly in his little bassinet next to my bed. Sure, he wasn't a great day-time sleeper, sleeping in 15 minute increments, but he started waking around once a night nearly a month in to his little life. I felt so lucky! I had heard tales of babies that slept, but had yet to experience the truth of that.
And then I went back to work and he reverse-cycled on me. He started waking not once, not twice, but at least three times a night...sometimes four. I became a walking Zombie. I shell of myself. And while I knew I had endured worse with my first, I think the shock of it brought me to my knees. I couldn't function. I couldn't catch up. I couldn't think. Yet I had to. I had to continue to work and teach and parent and cook and a whole host of other things people in my state should not have to do.
As the months went by, three times turned into two. And we've been stuck there for months, with an occasional three times a night thrown in for good measure. I felt like I'd been duped in those first few months. So here we are at the present day and Dylan will be 10 months old in just two weeks.
It's unbelievable that he's going to be so close to one! I can't get over how quickly time has passed us by and how soon he'll be running around the house. Within the past week, he has turned the tables once again. All week he's been waking just once. It doesn't matter if it's 3:00 a.m. or 12:00 a.m. It's just once. I feel refreshed, yet leery. Leery because I have learned never to assume things will stay the same. He could start waking twice a night again tonight. This could just be a fluke. But I'll take it.