Oct 02

Baby Monitor

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I sat last night with the monitor in hand and the tears began to roll. As I type this I can’t help but wonder if my fellow readers think that all I do is cry. I cry yes, but I do smile and laugh a lot too. Guess I should start my next post by saying,  “I was laughing so hard that my stomach was hurting…”. Anyways, truly it started during our bedtime routine. We hit a point with our little buddy that said it was time for more of a schedule, and part of that is setting an evening routine around here, which means that William needs to start sleeping in his crib at night. He has been sleeping next to our bed for 9.5 weeks now, and we have had a hard time letting him sleep away from us.

Typical dialogue at our house recently…

Me: “Dan, let’s try William in his crib tonight.”

Dan responds: “I am not ready.”

Me: “Yeah me either…”

A few days later the same conversation happens, etc., etc.

Finally last night, we realized it was just time. Partly because I am pretty sure that William was WAY too big for the little bassinet that we have and partly because I just think he would sleep more soundly in his room. We made the decision that no matter what that he was going to sleep in his crib, and that we just had to do it, because it was never going to be easy. So we gave him a bath, and as I began to nurse him, I just could not stop crying.

It hit me. When Mary Anna “crashed”, it was after we laid her down in her little incubator in the NICU and we walked upstairs to go to bed. In the middle of the night, we got the call that she was not doing well. Before that moment, she was fine and then she instantly was not. I felt like keeping William next to our bed meant that we could ensure that he never got sick. That he never would die.

I told those thoughts to my sweet husband, and he let me cry and talk through it all. Then as usual, I watched  my videos of my baby girl, and it brought back memories to the fact that she did not cry very often. At the time, we thought that it meant that she was a laid back baby, but now we realize it actually showed how very weak she was. A crying baby early on typically means a strong baby with good lungs, so when William was born, we wanted him to cry, cry, cry.

Mary Anna’s sweet noises were her way of fighting. Williams sweet cries now are his way of fighting. My cries are my way of fighting.

Culturally, we tend to make crying a sign of weakness, and we have that all wrong. The ability to be real and let out your emotions is a sign of strength. I know after each good cry that I have as I Keep Walking, I feel a little bit stronger. And men need it just as much if not more than women do.

It reminds me of our old pastor, because he would constantly tell us during our time of grief early on with Mary Anna that God cherishes our tears.

You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.
Psalms 56:8

So here’s to another night of the baby boy sleeping in his big boy crib, a momma who never wants him to grow up, and a daddy who is a rock to our crazy home. Keep Walking. Even through the tears.



  • Beth DeLemos

    So proud of you, my sweet little sister! Xoxoxo