Plans and Letting Go

So, as mentioned in my last post, we have started Baby on a bedtime routine. Sort of. Baby started getting sleepy between 7pm and 9pm and then sleeping his longest sleep (about four hours) for quite a few days in a row. All the articles recommend using this time to get Baby used to the same pattern, to help him wind down, help him distinguish day from night, and get him drowsy so he can eventually learn to fall asleep on his own. Not to mention that as a librarian I'd been wanting to read more books to him (a big part of the routine), but was discovering how hard it was to find the time between feeding and naps. Now we had a perfect solution to set in motion.

But here's the thing about plans: you make them and God laughs.

So we've had to become a little flexible with our "plan." For example, Baby started a cranky cry around 6:30 instead of close to 7pm. So we had to decide, do we try to feed him his last little bit to get him to drift off, or do we try to keep him awake to do a bedtime routine including a much-needed shower? After a few minutes of debate, Baby actually calmed down. So we knew he wasn't hungry. A shower it was then. Of course, then he decided to fall asleep. Okay, change of plans. We skip the bedtime routine, including the shower, and just put Baby down in his bassinet for the night. Except after we set him down in the bassinet he woke up. So change of plans again--we go shower. And then read to him while he's eating because now he is hungry. We just have to constantly experiment until we find something that works in the moment. And not be afraid to change course.

Thus, this post is about letting go of plans. And letting go in general. My maternity leave ends in two short weeks. Two weeks! Which means I have to let go of my child for hours at a time and let go of any semblance of the routine and control we've been establishing for 10 weeks. I was feeling a bit down about it, and anxious about everything involved in the transition. Hubby noticed. And as we entered the early evening with Baby, just before "bedtime," he suggested, "Why don't you dance with him?"

More specifically, he recalled a Captain America scene from our favorite recent movie, Avengers: Endgame (I'm doing my best not to spoil details for anyone who has yet to watch, but the scene can be found on YouTube).

"Go get dressed," Hubby continued, and offered to dress up our son while I changed, and then he would record our dance together.

I lit up and ran upstairs, squeezing into the dress I'd worn for our Facebook birth announcement (only two buttons wouldn't close--not bad for two months postpartum).

The next thing I knew, I was dancing to "It's Been A Long Long Time" by Harry James, managing to calm my baby who had been starting to reach his sleepy-fussy stage. As we rocked and rotated, I listened to the lyrics and teared up--it had been a long time that I'd wanted this child. Going to work wasn't going to change the fact that he was here and he was mine. I kissed him, and dipped him at the end, and Hubby recorded it all.

Then, because I love them so, we did a little photo shoot of my baby's cosplay. I went to bed smiling, any trace of sorrow or anxiety gone.

When I got engaged to my husband, I knew more living room dances were in store. I'd just never imagined that they wouldn't be with him. And how perfect that would still be.