The Family Bed

Warning: this post contains Too Much Information. if you choose to continue reading, because you are the type of person who can't resist surveying the carnage after a particularly nasty accident- well, that's on you. consider yourself warned...

our family, much to the dismay of my long-suffering husband, practices a concept called "family bed". this is our attempt, as normal middle class americans, to replicate poverty-stricken sub saharan africans. or, as my mother calls it, New Age Birth Control. rather than eating locusts or donning loin cloths, we show our solidaity with the world's citizens by letting our babies and young children sleep in ou bed with us. . we are one with the global tribe.

the way it works is: from the moment the baby is born he or she sleeps with me. the baby can nurse whenever it wants and i never have to leave the comfort of a warm bed in the middle of the night. my husband and other children never have to be woken up by a crying baby, hungry but in another room so it has to cry to get my attention. the baby can hear my breathing and my heartbeat, and i can just reach over to pat its sweet little back or touch its silky hair, or just calm it back to sleep. (btw, for those of you who are keeping score, the rate of SIDS for babies who sleep in a family bed is almost none. and, to my knowledge, no parent who was not intoxicated by drugs or alcohol has ever rolled over and smothered the baby. just so you know...) those are the upsides...

the small drawback is that this latest baby doesn't really want to leave our family bed. not that i can blame it (or in the present case- her). our room is where all the fun is. not only do we hide the treats in there, but we listen to AM talk radio when the rest of the house is quiet. we have the fluffy down comforters while the rest of the rooms have regular quilts. we have lively and spirited discussions (in hushed tones, of course) long after everyone else (except the teenager) is asleep. we trade secrets about friends, neighbors, and co-workers. and, really, what self-respecting baby wants to miss juicy gossip?

usually the babies start wanting their own space ( i hear this is called a "crib"...) and they gradually transition into their own bed- or at least the bed of an older sibling in the "big kids" room. this baby, though, seems to have other plans. much as this disgruntles my husband, however, this is not what is currently bugging me about our family bed.

the current issue, and again i remind you that this post contains TMI, is that this baby is a grabber. that's right- you know those machines in an arcade that have the mechanical arm with the big claw thing attached, and they just sort of thunk down wherever it looks like they might get lucky and grab a prize? well, she's kinda like that.

for most of her life, she had neither the coordination or the expectation of success that would lead her to make a grab for the goods when she wanted a midnight nosh. lately, however, the rules have changed. these days it's like an all-night snack bar- kind of like denny's with breastmilk. hungry? serve yourself. thirsty? have at it. bored? lonely? lost a sock? no problem- just paw mommy and soothe yourself back to sleep with a little emotional eating. disturbed yet? try waking up to cold little hands rooting around inside your shirt when you were having a perfectly pleasant dream about canadian politics.

it wasn't so bad when she would whine a little bit and i would wake up and nurse her, but now my little miss independent has graduated to self-serve. my husband rolled over the other night and put his hand on my shoulder- and i'm pretty sure i hissed at him to just wait for breakfast. i am getting paranoid that one of my other kids will come into my room for something and find me inflagrante nursicato. i am starting to have nightmares about being in the grocey store with my shirt opened down to the belly button.

i know my little one needs me, and i am all about the nursing, but this is turning into a made for tv movie or an after school special. it is like alien, but in reverse- where the creature is trying to crawl back in instead of trying to get out. and if i rebuff her, she makes this gunt of indignation- like how dare i withold what is rightfully hers. i know that this stage will pass, and that it will all be over much too quickly, and that i will miss these days of having a baby who really needs me. but in the meantime i am thinking about hiding under the bed in a sleeping bag wearing multiple layers of padlocked clothing.

or maybe i'll just start putting the baby in her crib...

but then what would i blog about???