Dearest C,
When you were super little, I very much enjoyed sharing our one bedroom with you. It was such a comfort to know that you were just a foot away from me. It was so easy to come to your aid in the middle of the night when you needed one of us. In the first couple of weeks, when my new maternal instinct was in overdrive and I had to check to make sure you were breathing, I didn’t need to go far.
Fast forward seven months…
You are quite a wild little sleeper. You like to bring your legs up in the air and slam them down on your mattress. You move your arms around all the time. Even though you still have no interest in rolling over, you rarely wake up in the same position that we set you down in.
In short, you’re loud. You’re also the lightest sleeper I have ever encountered.
When your dad or I enter the room to go to bed, we slowly turn the door handle and silently slip into the room. Regardless of how stealthily we attempt to be, we disturb your sleep. I don’t know if you can sense our presence or if we somehow disrupt the airflow of your sleeping radius. If we’re really lucky, you go back to sleep. But 90% of the time, you completely wake up just as I am drifting off to sleep. You wake up crying. Did I mention you’re a loud little person? Then we need to get out of bed, make you a bottle, feed you, put you back to bed, shut the door and cross our fingers that you fall asleep very quickly so that we can begin the process anew.
This entire process has become so troublesome that your father and I have contemplated moving our bed into the living room. The living room, C! Do you know what that would mean? If someone came to our door, the first thing that they would see is our bed. *sigh*
Raising you in a residence hall environment certainly has its pros and cons. I’m filing this under the “cons” and counting the days until your dad graduates and we can move on to a larger apartment.
Love,
Your tired mother, who wishes you were a heavier sleeper 
