My babies all slept on their bellies. There. Happy? I am officially a Bad Mother, and have been for quite some time.
I actually don't like admitting that too often, because the looks of horror I get are hard to take. But, now that my children have all lived through it, it's a little easier to admit. I know, I know, all their diapers told me to put them on their backs, and so did the doctor, and so did the two parenting books I actually read.
I tried. I really did, but my first one couldn't sleep like that. And then I couldn't sleep. And, quite honestly, I decided that the exhaustion was far more dangerous than putting him on his belly to sleep. And he had a mattress that was like a block of wood, and no blankets or stuffed animals, and I did everything else I was supposed to. But he slept like a champ on his belly.
I didn't hold out nearly as long with the second, because I had all that residual exhaustion left over from the 2 1/2 year old. And with the third, I may have tried for a day or two, but not much longer, because, well, there were three of them at that point, and no one had even had a fourth birthday by the time he'd come around.
So, there you have it. I'll start a therapy fund right alongside that college fund, because there are plenty more of those confessions. Oh, and I'll get this one out of the way now: they all eat french fries, and probably all ate them before their first birthdays. You can pick your chin off the floor, now, thankyouverymuch.