Well, we did it. All. Night. Long.

And by "it" I mean, of course, stayed out of his room. Didn't feed him. Didn't soothe him. Let him cry. (Why, what were you thinking?)

I didn't think I could do it. We thought about getting a hotel room and leaving just one of us here at a time. We nearly hired a night nurse just to listen to the monitor and make sure he didn't die.

I never thought it would come to this. When you hold your spouse's hand and dream of being a parent, you don't dream about banishing your baby to the basement to scream among your laundry and boxes.

My fears were 1) That I wouldn't be able to outlast him.
2) That he would choke on his spit/snot/puke.
3) That he would lose a little of the light in his eyes and the bursting joy in his heart.
4) That our bond wouldn't be the same.

Well, my friends, I am happy to report that none of my fears came true.

Two things gave me the commitment to go through with it. First, I realized that every one of us was looking stressed and depressed. Second, I called a pediatrician friend of ours, who reassured me that he wouldn't die. Her exact words: "You know, bad things do happen in this world, but he should be able to handle his spit."

If you're even thinking about doing it, do it. No one even thinks about crying it out unless she is desperate and near her breaking point. I thought it would be like crossing the Mississippi. Really, it was just jumping through a few puddles.

It is agony. It feels like your worst fear coinciding with the most terrible pain of your life; I would liken it to passing a kidney stone while stuck in an elevator. That first night was the hardest. He cried off and on for what seemed like all night. My body was writhing inside. I had hot flashes. I was nauseated. When he wasn't crying, I kept waking up worrying about him. Something primordial in our brain says, "This is wrong! Go get that damn baby!"

But he woke up smiling at me like nothing had happened. In that moment, I knew we were going to be okay.

It took 2-3 weeks before he really settled in to sleeping well, but we had some hiccups (loud heaters, switching back to his room, storms, etc.). During that time, he was fussier and clingier, which was heart-wrenching. But that slowly faded away as his sleep improved, and now I can honestly say that he is EVEN HAPPIER than he used to be. He shrieks with joy every time he sees us.

And even more, I feel like a new woman. I want to cry, I feel so good. I am rejoining the world of the living. I swear I love my children more. For the first time in a long time, I actually have the energy and the desire to play with them. See Scienceofmom.com for more research on why sleep training, though it temporarily stresses babies, probably lowers their exposure to cortisol over the long term because mom (and therefore the household) is so much less stressed. Sleep deprivation is likely the number one contributor to post-partum depression (or just that feeling of depletion), which is undoubtedly hard on babies. Sleep is crucial.

YOU MATTER. Crying it out empowered me. It validated that I can take care of myself, and my kids will be okay. I learned I can set my boundaries as a parent and we'll all be better off for it. It freed me to enjoy parenting.