Prepare yourselves for an admission of a serious parenting folly:
Rami slept in our bedroom for 8 (eight) months and some days.
It was out of desperation, really-
in a single room, we thought,
one crying boy would lead to a second crying boy.
If one cried out in the night,
but he was the only crying boy in the room,
only one parent would have to tend to him.
Relegated to a Pack N'Play in Abba and Ima's room,
Rami woke nearly every night
between the hours of midnight and two.
Meaning one parent lost significant sleep each night,
cuddling a restless baby by the bathroom light through the crack under the door.
But, we reasoned, one sleep-deprived parent is better than two.
So, we danced this sleep-trading dance,
(David losing more sleep than I)
night after night
for more than eight months.
On Thursday last,
I finally reached the breaking point.
Surrounded by blissful pitch-darkness.
The dark circles under my eyes made me look OLD (old!)
(My vanity rivals Rami's so, as you can imagine, that was the last straw.)
We hunkered down for a lo-o-o-o-ong weekend of sleep training.
Both boys in one room or bust!
we marched the boys upstairs,
dressed them in jammies,
sang bedtime prayers,
put them in their respective cribs,
and waited for the screaming to begin.
We heard a small boy bouncing on mattress springs (a quick peek confirmed it was Rami.)
Some settling of little bodies.
A passing chatty word here or there.
We couldn't figure it out!
Why, after all these nights of waking,
did Rami sleep through the night
only when put in the same room as his brother?
Well, we'll never know for sure.
I think we found the answer -
he missed his big brother.
This is the beginning of so many adventures together.