Nummies, or a nummy, in this house is a dummy/pacifier/soother or whatever you choose to call it. They got called nummies in my house because in Australia they are called dummies and in Australia everything gets shortened and I HATED people asking my infant son if he wanted his dum dum. It sounds awful.
Now… on with the story.
Isaac was a fan of the nummy from around 30 hours old. His second night on earth, after a particularly unhelpful midwife forced me to breastfeed my overcooked, mucus filled, not hungry child. And the more we put in his tiny full tummy, the more he screamed from belly pain. He was wanting to suckle for comfort but it was just making things worse. I needed sleep. The lady in the next bed who had just had a hysterectomy and for some stupid reason was put on the maternity ward, complained loudly and frequently at being roomies with a newborn because she needed sleep. Lots of wits were at lots of ends.
I didn’t actually put much thought into nummy use. I was going to try without one and see how we went. But as my traumatic experience with breastfeeding showed. My nipples were not willing to be used for soothing purposes. I was happy to give it a go. The midwife sterilsed one and in it went.
Instant silence. Relief for all.
A nummy (and several spares) were attached to him for the next two years. About two weeks before his second birthday I decided that I didn’t want them in every photo we ever took of him. Especially his birthday photos. So for three horrible horrible days we endured screams of “myyyyyy nuuuummmyyyy. I want my nuuuuummmmmyyyyyyyy”.
He got it back for nap time and bed time (because we still needed sleep too) but every waking moment during the day was him and his very loud broken heart.
Day four he woke up and it was if nothing had ever happened. Life continued on in peace and good behaviour. Sans nummy. With the thought of giving it up for bed time and nap time always in the back of my mind. Filling me with dread.
Then yesterday happened. Well yesterday was fine. Last night, the hour after dinner time and before bedtime happened.
You know how toddlers are just small drunk people? It really was like he was drunk! He was just giggling at everything. Whenever we told him not to do something he threw his head back and laughed at us. Like a tiny sociopath. Threats were made on toys. Toys got confiscated. Threats of “I’ll yell” which usually has him sitting down going “no no no no” were met with enthusiasm. So I pulled out my last option.
“Isaac, settle down and do as you’re told or you don’t get to take a nummy to bed tonight”.
It didn’t work. I had no option. You can’t make threats if you can’t follow through.
I put him to bed with no nummy and shut the safety gate (yes, we essentially lock our boy in his room at night) expecting the world to end.
There was random giggling for the first half an hour. Standing at his gate whispering “I want an ice cream” the next. Then the noise of every single toy he owns being put in his bed with him. Then nothing. Silence.
I bravely peeked around his door. He was fast asleep on the very edge of his bed. Moving his toys was the easy bit. I had to decide whether to move him off the edge now and risk all hell breaking loose, or risk him falling out of bed later and all hell breaking loose. I’m a fairly responsible mother so the risk of injury outweighed the risk of waking him up. Slowly and carefully I shoved him back to the middle. Nothing. Didn’t even stir. It was one of those ‘crap, he mustn’t be breathing’ moments.
My little nummy addict went all night without a nummy and I don’t think he even noticed. I am aware you have to repeat the results of an experiment to confirm the results and that study will be conducted in the next few nights. But I’m quietly optimistic. I’d say the dread has at least halved.
lisa170 