When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was frequently paranoid during the day because of how still she was. Hours would go by with only the faintest signals from my belly that she was okay in there. But nighttime was different. As soon as I would settle myself in bed, the party would start. She was alive, and man, was
she kicking. Not much changed after she was born. Her days were peaceful, a series of long naps, easy feedings, and quiet rocking. And from 10 pm on, she was a beast. I had read about sleep-training. I believed in the importance of a good night’s rest for kids. Part of me-the aspiring proper British nanny in me-desperately wanted to fix what was happening. But the real me was probably
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