I can’t believe it’s August already, and I can’t believe it’s been two months since I posted anything here.
Ian is growing like a weed, and growing up so much. His personality is really coming out, and it’s amazing. He’s a total chatterbox and I’m pretty sure his goal right now is to be the center of attention at all times. Every day, I say I couldn’t love anything more, but somehow I manage to love him more with each passing second.
We started doing the Ferber method last week. I swore I would never, ever, ever be able to let him cry at all, but after months of endless crying with the No Cry Sleep Solution and a disastrous attempt at going away for the weekend (from a sleep perspective), I knew something had to change. It’s amazing. He sleeps so well now. I can put him down in his crib for bedtime or nap time and he’s asleep almost instantly. I’m about ready to go over to Children’s and thank Dr. Ferber himself.
Speaking of that, please note I said crib. We moved him to his room on Saturday. We kept him in our room forever because our bedrooms are on different floors, and I didn’t want to be going up and down stairs in the middle of the night, plus I was worried about him being so far from us. It was such a non-event, unless you count the fact that I’ve only had to get up once during the night with him. When he was sleeping a foot from me, we were up every three hours or so.
Another big change is we now have a babysitter. I was terrified about leaving him, but she’s fabulous. She just finished nursing school and they seem to love each other, so I couldn’t ask for anything more. I’m sticking my head in the sand about her eventually getting a nursing job.
I’ve been having a lot of issues with anxiety, which is my only complaint. I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Most of the time, I am so convinced that we’re eventually going to lose him, too. It makes me sick to my stomach, but it’s hard to turn off those thoughts. No matter what we’re doing, I start imagining what bad things could happen. It’s not to the point where I can’t leave the house, but I recognize it’s not normal. I’m doing what I can to work through it, but it sucks.
I still think about Jilly constantly. I always will. I can’t help but think about what life would be like if she’d lived. I like to imagine that if she had, I still would have gotten pregnant with Ian when I did. I wish I could have both of my babies here with me. In a way, I do, because Jilly is in my heart, but it’s not the same. You know what I mean.