I'm Not Ready

I came home from school today and someone took three steps unassisted. And just a few moments ago, that someone woke up as soon as her head hit the mattress, per normal. After a futile attempt to put her to sleep by playing with her hair (she'll learn how wonderful this is in a few years, I'm guessing) I finally just left the room so I could take out my contacts, wash my face, um...pee (which I rarely ever get to do alone and I'm sure that only gets worse, not better), and put on my pajamas. This was all accomplished while someone wailed at the top of her lungs. I was speeding through my nightly routine hoping to get back to her in record time. Then, just as the last leg went into the pajama bottoms...the crying stopped. For the first time in her life, she cried herself to sleep while in my presence. Sure, she's cried in the car and then gone to sleep. She pretty much hates the car. Thank goodness for iTunes audiobooks for children. The Grinch Who Stole Christmas is a guaranteed winner; as soon as Walter Matthau's voice comes out of the speakers the screaming comes to an abrupt halt.

Sure, some people say babies need to cry themselves to sleep. I cannot do it; make her cry on purpose, that is. Especially after I read this:

He awakes in a mindless terror of the silence, the motionlessness. He screams. He is afire from head to foot with want, with desire, with intolerable impatience. He gasps for breath and screams until his head is filled and throbbing with the sound. He screams until his chest aches, until his throat is sore. He can bear the pain no more and his sobs weaken and subside. He listens. He opens and closes his fists. He rolls his head from side to side. Nothing helps. It is unbearable. He begins to cry again, but it is too much for his strained throat; he soon stops. He waves his hands and kicks his feet. He stops, able to suffer, unable to think, unable to hope. He listens. Then he falls asleep again.

I now feel so guilty I want to wake her up and take her to bed with me. But I won't. I'll just hug and kiss her extra in the morning.