The Cry It Out method, often abbreviated as CIO, is not exactly the ideal way to spend a Saturday night—or any night for that matter. Having navigated the CIO waters with my twins a few years back, I thought I’d escaped its clutches. But then, surprise! My miracle baby arrived in 2011, and here I was, unexpectedly enrolled in a refresher course on the method.
Let me take you through last night’s escapade. I glanced at the clock: 2:39 a.m. This detail will be key later. I flopped back onto my pillow, whispering sweet little lies to myself, like “If I just cover my head with this pillow, I’ll magically fall back asleep.” Ignoring the fact that the wailing was still audible through the pillow, I tried to convince myself it would end soon.
After ten minutes of relentless crying, nature called. I figured I might as well empty my bladder since sleep was clearly off the table. Maybe the little one would quiet down while I was occupied—nope! I stumbled into the bathroom, thanks to my husband leaving the seat up, and sat on a less-than-clean toilet seat. Ugh.
Back in bed, I took a deep breath, reassuring myself that this couldn’t go on forever. She had to tire out eventually, right? I smiled, thinking I was winning.
Around 2:59 a.m., I got up again, tiptoeing down the hallway to check on my other kids. I stood outside the CIO kid’s door, debating whether to intervene. Genuine issues could include a blowout diaper, vomiting, or a limb stuck in the crib. Unacceptable reasons (but certainly not limited to) included whining for water or searching for a lost stuffed animal. I decided to hold my ground; after all, her cries of “THIRSTY!” sounded more like a dramatization than a genuine need.
As I tossed and turned, I felt a bit of heartburn creeping in. Off I went downstairs for some Tums, grabbing my phone to catch up on Words With Friends because, let’s be real, sleep was not happening. I scored some solid points, even while battling exhaustion and a growing sense of irritability.
My husband, blissfully unaware, snored loudly beside me, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. I kicked him in the shins, perhaps a tad too hard. Meanwhile, our mini poodle was dreaming away, whimpering and snoring, which only fueled my envy of his carefree life.
Checking the time again, I wondered how much longer it would go on. Isn’t she tired? I sure was! Just as the clock hit 3:39 a.m.—a full hour of CIO, which is crucial to note—I flung back the covers and stormed to her room. I threw open the door, hissing, “WHAT IS GOING ON?”
There she was, tear-stained and snotty, waving her naked stuffed animal at me. “Olivia? Dress? Dress on? Help, Mommy?” she sniffled, bedhead in full effect. All of this fuss was because her doll was undressed? Seriously?!
Understanding my options, I realized that if I dressed Olivia, I might actually get some sleep. If I didn’t, I risked enduring another hour of crying. It was a no-brainer.
In just 13 seconds, Olivia was back in her sailor suit, and my daughter happily snuggled into the corner of her crib, sighing in contentment.
Worn out, I crawled back into bed, hoping it was for the last time until morning. Spoiler alert: it was morning, and it took me another half hour to unwind enough to drift back to sleep in the blissful silence.
If you’re interested in more parenting tips, check out this post on Cervical Insemination. It might just give you some insight into the journey of parenthood. Also, if you’re considering at-home insemination, Make A Mom offers reputable insemination kits. For comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination, visit CDC’s pregnancy resource.
In summary, the CIO method is an emotional rollercoaster for both parents and kids. Whether you choose to embrace it or seek alternative approaches, remember that every family’s journey is unique.
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