Taboo.

Last night, I rocked my son to sleep. It's taboo and frowned upon and probably one of the worst mistakes you can make during your child's first years, but it had been so long since we rocked together in the big blue chair in the corner of my son's room that I can't even pretend to regret it now.

I used to rock my son to sleep every night. He would nurse or have a bottle and we'd rock and rock until he fell completely asleep, cuddled in the crook of my arm. It became a serious sleep association for him, one that proved hard to break months later. So one might ask, why would I choose to reopen that can of worms? Why would I rock him again?

Well, it happened at about 10 p.m. I had only just fallen asleep, suffering from a stuffy head and throat that felt like I was swallowing sandpaper, when I heard his sad little cry vibrating through the monitor. This wasn't his little whimper he makes when turning over; it was a full-out cry. And it didn't stop. He sat up and rolled around and his crying just got sadder and louder. It broke my heart, and I knew I had to go to him. It's a funny thing when you're a mother how in tune you become with your child. I knew, after just a couple of groggy seconds, that his cry meant he needed me, that he was in pain, not that he woke up and just wanted to see if I would come.

So I hurried out of our bedroom. My husband questioned my decision to go to him so quickly (as he often cries for a few seconds in his sleep and then simply puts himself back to bed. In fact, going in there usually disrupts him more than the momentary bad dream or uncomfortable postion that originally woke him). But I knew. And when I picked him up, he was so stuffy he could barely breathe through his nose at all and tears were streaming down his hot face. So I rocked him in that blue chair for 30 minutes. He fell asleep, scrunched in my arms because that's the only way he'll fit anymore, and snored lightly into my side.

I finally laid him back down when we were both ready, but it was funny how much I didn't mind waking up. I was so tired and sick myself, but I didn't even care that I had to wake up. I missed the days I used to rock him to sleep. And I understand why I can't do it every night, why it's bad for him to have that sleep association, but it was nice. We used the stuffy nose.. whether it was teething or sickness I'm still not sure... as an excuse to pretend he was 6 months old again. And I'm not sure who loved it more, though it was probably me.

It's impressive the instinct that mothers have about their children. It doesn't work with other children - I don't hear a baby crying in a store and know exactly what ails them - but I know when my son cries exactly what he needs me to do. Scientists talk about this biological connection that exists between a mother and her child, this innate ability to do the right thing at the right time. I don't think it's actually biological. I believe mothers who adopt their children or have them via surrogate experience this same sychronization. Either way, it's the best super power we as mothers could ask for.

So, last night I rocked my child to sleep for the first time in months. Because now that he knows how to put himself to sleep, he doesn't need me to rock him at night. In fact, he often won't allow it; he just doesn't want to sit still. It was the highlight of my night though, those 30 minutes we rocked. In a way, I wish we could have more nights and I'd like to believe it isn't the last time he'll need me to rock him to sleep. Even though I obviously prefer him to be healthy and not need me, it's still nice to be needed.

- N.


Slightly Crunchy: giving in to some of the earth-preserving, "granola-esque" qualities that are often associated with mothers such as cloth diapering, breastfeeding and organic baby food-making, but without fully embracing the "make-your-own-clothes-wear-organic-deodorant-all-natural-everything" lifestyle.