When Emmeline was about five months old, I performed the usual bedtime routine -- bath, massage, bottle, book -- then hoisted in her in her crib, turned off the light and let her fend for herself. Dana had to work through the night and into the early morning, and so I was the only one around the hear Emme cry. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was mean. It certainly broke my heart every time she woke up and I sat on my hands. But she sleeps like a drunken rock star now, so I'm not complaining.
I'm not advocating the cry-it-out method, despite the aptly chosen moniker above this post. It worked for us -- but it may not work for you. Still, I was reading a column by family psychologist John Rosemond, and I started to see he had a point: Taking the easy way out will only haunt you later.
Before we let Emme cry it out, Dana and I were up every half hour to plug a pacifier back into her yawning maw. She couldn't do it herself because A. she didn't know what those chubby, wiggly things were at her side, and B. she was swaddled, so she couldn't use them even if she did know. We tried everything to get her to sleep just a little bit longer. We took turns sitting with her. We brought her into bed with us. We sang, we hummed, we got so tired we actually rationalized with her. "Emme, you're a big girl now -- it's time to sleep. All night."
So at five months, we took away the swaddle, we took away the pacifier and we let her soothe herself -- and us, eventually -- into a deep, sound sleep. The easy way would have been to answer her every cry and trudge into her room for comfort and pacifiers. The hard way was to let her cry for one night -- she only needed one. If I had it to do over, I'd choose the hard way -- simply because it's easier over time.