Pulling the Pacey
I rounded up all of the “bobbers” (don’t ask: Matt’s name for pacifier because he doesn’t like the term “binky”) and even considered wrapping them up like a present so we couldn’t grab one easily in a weak moment. The one who ripped the wrapping paper would have to be really desperate.
I felt like I was plotting a crime.
My pediatrician’s words reverberated in my head: “The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to get. You should get rid of it by her 15-month well visit if you can. You’ll have three bad nights and then it will be over.”
Doc, you don’t know my daughter.
If you think she will only protest for three nights, then it will be two weeks. At least. The thought of all that lost sleep makes me want to cry.
As a first-time mother recovering in the hospital, I remember the nurse who asked me in hushed tones if I believed in using a pacifier.
“Doesn’t it help soothe the baby?” I asked naively. “Why wouldn’t I want to use it?”
“Oh, well, there’s nipple confusion for one,” she explained.
On April 14, 2011
