This task was no easier than when I let her cry it out. I put my foot down for ages and fought hard with baby daddy over it. He beseeches me to reason, that sleep deprivation has turned us into a moody gloomy household and that included the baby. I just couldn't do it though, my firstborn wailing for me from her crib, hands sticking out in the dark to reach me. How could I steel myself against it? I think it happened by accident the first night. I was likely so tired I slept through her cries as the husband closes the door on her and leaves her in her own room for the night. I am ordered to not go in until at least five am. I huffed off into bed with a silent stubborn rage, but too tired to fight. I must have slept through her cries. Eventually she stopped crying for me too and there I had let her CIO, the one thing I was dead against.
Same story goes for the car seat. I had to accept it. It was tough love but I had to otherwise we'd be tortured through every car ride and she was going to keep pushing her boundaries. We wanted well behaved children and that means she needs to know some tough love.
Back to dummy weaning, I tried hiding it but she always found it, I tried rules but she fought hard to disobey them and I found myself bending them myself for the easy (quiet) way out. I explored rubbing something unpleasant onto the dummy like Echinacea or olive leaf extract but they don't recommend those for children her age.
Over the weekend, I decided I was ready, I put some medicated oil on her dummy. I didn't like it but that's what my parents said they did with me and I survived it. She glares at me and throws the dummy onto the floor with a loud angry "No!" Then through tears and agony, she picks it up again and keeps sucking it despite the horrid taste and smell. I am at my wits' end, staring at her stubbornness with disbelief.
Her daddy comes home at noon and I related the story, he reminds me that there is another alternative that I have ignored but is also our traditional way to wean a child.
We took her to the fair that afternoon and let her pick a Giraffe balloon to take home. She was so happy yet at the same time so insecure that we would take it away (we hardly ever buy her new toys) that she wouldn't let go of it and so we had to carry her together with the giraffe. It was ridiculous really if you see the size of the balloon.
That kept her occupied enough to not storm us for her dummy. But the peace didn't last long. I take deep breaths as we pulled up at home. I knew it was the last resort that I needed to turn to. I took all four dummies and dipped them into my homemade chilli sauce. So hot that it brings tears to my eyes but I could trust it for kick above and beyond the store bought stuff. So cruel, but it's short term pain for long term gain I keep telling myself.
I feel numb, as though the chilli had made its way into my heart, as I hand over the loaded dummy to her, as I hold her afterwards whilst she sobs uncontrollably onto my shoulder in pain, and this morning in the dark hours of the morning when I couldn't give her the dummy and she really wanted it. My resolve to help her wean has created a heavy dull void in me where I must have not allowed myself to feel in this very moment. Echoes of her cries, her frustration, they all wash through me as I file this inside me as an achievement under motherhood, for future reference and for building resilience.
One huge leap for me, but perhaps it's a small step for mankind. Several reassuring sympathetic nods from colleagues at work reminds me that I am not the only parent that has exercised this horrendous feat. This isn't uncharted territory. Traditional methods yet again has proved effective despite me not agreeing with the journey, but we all seem better on the other end. Perhaps this hippy mum thing is not my cup of tea.
