Ember has been fighting sleep pretty bad all day – I suspect a bit of tummy troubles, since she wants to comfort nurse all day long but doesn’t seem to want the milk (fusses and spits it out during letdown). Instead of just passing out at bedtime she was yet again nursing and I, being bored, was trying to read some stuff on my phone. Unfortunately this kiddo is light-sensitive at night. Kate, as long as she was up next to me, would sleep through anything; I believe I used my laptop in bed on a few occasions, Kate asleep on my chest or snuggled up against my arm or leg. Ember is nosy. If it’s dark she’ll fall asleep. If I have a small light on, say from my phone, then her eyes keep popping open to stare at it. Even when she’s sound asleep she’ll start stirring. I’ve hid under the covers to read at night, yes I have. But then I can get her to sleep and then leave her there and come use my computer – something I could never do with Kate!

As I was laying there in the dark, done nursing, I rested my forehead against Embers and rubbed the back of her head until she fell asleep. I was thinking about how unsettled I’ve been by this very different relationship I have with Ember, but it occurred to me that it was just that – a relationship, a two-way street. Kate and I needed each other. She was my anchor against anxiety after loss, my distrust in the tangible. And I was her anchor in this big new world, calming her and organizing her brain and emotions. Now I believe that it was in large part just her personality, her genetics, just as much as my anxiety existed from the start… but I’m sure we fed into each other. Hearing her frantic screams at being put down certainly did not make me feel any better about ever letting her go; my avoidance of putting her down to sleep probably didn’t help her learn to sleep on her own. It took us a long time to adapt and adjust, to take small steps to individuality. I feel that she and I functioned as a unit for a very long time.

Ember and I have a much more relaxed, mellow relationship. She seems so much more secure with herself in this outside world, inquisitive and accepting without needing a lot of help. And I am 4 years down the road from my loss of Devin, 2 years into parenting Kate… I am much more confident in myself as a mother to a living child. And I’m sure that we are feeding off of each other, too.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I am not “doing enough,” but I keep reminding myself that my parenting philosophy has always been to listen to the child. I’m not doing it “wrong” if my child is happy, even if it feels kind of bizarre. My goal are happy, well-adjusted children… and so far that has worked out pretty darn well for me.