Last night Benoit showed me a really cool feature of the baby monitor which, for 8 months I didn’t know about. It’s called an off switch. I know, it’s an extreme concept even to me this morning after four hours of uninterrupted sleep.

We finally did it. Or, since Benoit officially was the one to switch it off, I should say HE finally did it. We’re putting our foot down, or at least dampening the airwaves. Instead of feeding Gianna twice last night and doing the up-down, me-him, baby dance last night, I fed her once at 2am, we both got up once after that for 15 minutes each to try to put her back to sleep and then we turned the monitor off. She shares a wall with our bedroom and we left our doors open (hers are french doors with glass panels so I’m sure they’re not soundproof either) and I’m not sure what happened after that. I woke up to her cooing at 7am and went in to find her happily sitting in her crib lifting her blanket repeatedly over her head and playing peekaboo with herself. She did not have a single “lovey” or other soothing toy in her crib to play with. I can only say that I know for sure she would have woken me up if she had been crying at all last night (more than her usual whining for not being able to get to sleep) because it has happened in the past when Benoit has gone to soothe her and failing, she woke me up. A mommy’s radar is quite sensitive I’ve found. To get sleep in the morning I’ve had Benoit take her upstairs at the other end of the house just so I can’t hear her occasional yelps as she plays because they wake me up.

But, I’d be lying if I said I’m not feeling a little bit guilty about switching off our earpiece to her room. I mean, I’m fallible and maybe my need for sleep was greater than my usually sensitive baby-crying radar and she spent all four hours between 2 and 7 last night crying uncontrollably until the very last few minutes where she decided to play and that’s how I found her. What if? Okay, there, I’m done. I know it’s irrational. I know she probably tossed and turned by herself, whimpered a little out of frustration and then finally fell uncontrollably asleep by herself. Maybe it didn’t happen until 3am or even 3:30 but, I’m sure if it had taken much longer than that (with no toys and no parents to cling to) she would have been howling (like every other night since she was born). Still, I just feel the tiniest twinge of guilt for being familiar with this setting on the monitor now. It’s a slippery slope after all. Now that I know it has worked I may use it again and again!

Miriam Webster defines separation anxiety as, “a form of anxiety experienced by a young child and caused by separation from a significant nurturant figure and typically a parent or from familiar surroundings.” The glaring problem with this definition is it suggests that only children may suffer from this condition.

Well, Gianna outgrew her bassinet three days ago. We saw it coming of course, the little toes just millimeters from the edge and me having to contort her into a pike position just to get her head under the canopy, a few significant clues pointing toward the inevitable bed swap. But, I wasn’t ready. My babe still wakes at least once a night looking for her mommy, or at least her mommy’s milk. And, I’ve grown so accustomed to her grunts and sighs through the night, a gentle ocean of noise that lulls me with each breath, her deep sleep soliciting my own.

Now I listen intently to a baby monitor set only to give me distress calls and the silence is deafening. She doesn’t need me nearby to sleep but I do! I lie awake for hours waiting to hear some little squeak or sigh that never comes.

And Benoit? I asked him how he likes not having her in our bedroom anymore and he told me he’s happy about it. I stared at him in utter shock and then sullenly got into bed beside him. I don’t know what is so great about having our bedroom so quiet but I guess I’ll get used to it sooner or later. In the meantime I’m thinking there might be a market out there for a CD of sounds of babies sleeping for all those moms out there like me, sad to see their little ones out of arm’s reach.