Like a lot of babies, Chiara does not go to sleep easily. It’s past noon today and Chiara hasn’t had a nap, after waking up around 7 this morning. She would shut her eyes long enough that I would put her in her bed, but within 15 minutes she would begin the repetitive “eh, eh, eh” kind of crying that means she wants to be picked up and held.

Who blames her, really? I wouldn’t want to go to sleep for hours every day when exciting things are happening all around and it’s light enough that I could watch and see everything.

Chiara’s cries, though, are such an expressive communication system. I am frustrated because I can’t distinguish them or understand what she wants most of the time. I find myself translating, but not really knowing whether my interpretations are accurate.

Today, for instance, she cried while kicking her heels out and straightening her legs so she was stiff as a board. Meanwhile, she screwed up her face and let out a few grunts. Seemed to me that she might have to go, right? So I went to check her diaper. As soon as I unsnapped her bottoms and unvelcroed her diaper, her wailing increased in volume and urgency.

“Are you so lacking in imagination that you go right for the diaper whenever I cry?” she seemed to be conveying. “What about my feelings? My dignity? Maybe I just want to sleep but I can’t sleep because so much is going on. What about that, huh? What can you do to help me sleep?”

What could I do, really? I just held her while she squirmed and cried and finally, her cries got slower and fainter and her breathing heavier.

So I put her down on her bed. And instantly her eyes opened. “Waaaaaa!”

Uh oh. So I opened her bottoms again to check her diaper. Again she escalated her cries.

“Back to the diaper?! What did I tell you the last time? Have you no imagination whatsoever? I am just sleepy and tired but you’re awake and doing stuff so how do you expect me to sleep. Why can’t I do stuff with you?”

So, I picked her up again. She calmed down after a few moments this time. And slowly fell back asleep. I checked on her sleep depth by lifting her hand from my shoulder. Her grip tightened. Ah, she is not fully asleep yet. So I held her some more, rocking back and forth. I even snapped some pictures of the sleeping beauty by standing in front of a mirror.

I sat on the couch and started to go through my email with one hand, which means just reading but not responding to messages. Her breathing was regular, and deep. I got up and walked over to her bed and lay her down.

“Wa.” She let out a small rebuke of a cry. Then she shut her eyes.

Ah. Sleep. At last.