Bye-Bye Nuk

November 2010

It was time. It was way past time. It was a full year past when we had agreed the time would be. It was time for the pacifiers to leave our house. The nuks were starting to be more trouble than they were worth (or so we thought). These were the thoughts of the two adults in our house, not that of the young nuk lover, Jack, AKA, Mr. I-would-like-to-have-a-nukie-in-my-mouth-at-all-times-who-cares-if-I-am-2 1/2.

All through November, I started to hate the nuk more and more. Jack started wanting it at all times and would scream and throw tantrums when he was reminded that it was only for naps and bedtime. Then, at nap and bedtime, he would jump out of his bed, open his door, throw the nukie in the hall and 30 seconds later would be screaming, "I need my nukie!". Ugh.

So, it was time, but when? How would we buckle down and say, "OK, I am ready for the next three days of our lives to be absolutely horrible! I am ready for my child to scream and wail, bring it on!"? I kept thinking the right time would come on it's own, and it did. Jack became a little ill in mid-November, just a cold, nothing terrible. However, Jack acts like a full grown man when ill. If you are married, then you get my point. Anyway, by about day five of Jack's cold, he was absolutely unbearable, however most of his sympotms had dissipated, he was just sick of being sick and wanted to make sure that I was more miserable than him. As I was feeling sorry for myself for dealing with his behavior, I started remembering that we had planned on taking nukie away soon too. I was all upset thinking about how I was finally going to get this child to act like a human being again and then I would be taking his nuk away and he would be acting like this all over again! So, that did it for me. I was not willing to go through this twice, I snuck over to where nukie was lying on the floor and I clipped the end off. I then had to wait for him to find what I had done. That was a sickening feeling, just waiting to see my son's heart break. Right then, I regretted ever giving it to him in the first place, knowing what was going to happen when he found it. And, I was right. The poor little lad wandered over to the deceased nukie, studied for a few moments, attepted to suck on it and then crashed to the floor in tears. I tried to comfort him all the while trying to act surprised that nukie was "broken". He sobbed there in my arms for over 45 minutes.

I then made a call to Jay, (who of course was out of town, as he always is when icky stuff happens) to be comforted, to be told that I was a good mom and that I was doing the right thing and to stay strong. I must have misdialed because that is not what I got. Instead, I had a husband who was feeling bad for his poor little boy who was just getting over being sick and how could I do this? Ugh. But, I continued to do what I knew was right.

I dreaded bedtime. What would happen? How long would he cry? Would he let me comfort him? Why in hell did I do this? Who cares if he graduates from high school still using a pacifier to fall asleep? The kid will probably need braces anyway, what is the point in taking it away now? Bedtime came. And, sleep did too. It wasn't too bad. Jack wanted to hold his broken nukie and that was fine with me, so the poor little tyke held it and stroked his cheek with it. I went to bed that night feeling pretty proud of myself. I had stayed strong and my son would conquer this with my support. Life will go on.

And then, 2am came. I was awoken to Jack sobbing in his room for his nukie. I don't mean crying, I mean sobbing that could only be compared with that of mothers losing a child. I tried and tried to hold him, comfort him, anything to make him calm down. My heart was breaking just as much as his. He did finally calm down slightly, down to where it was just the broken sobs in between deep breaths and he asked me to sleep on the floor next to his bed. How could I say no? I laid there that night having what I can only describe as a Toy Story type experience. You know, the flashbacks of the good times with Sarah McLaughlin songs playing in the background. I thought of his first night in the hospital after he was born and how Jay went and begged a nurse for a pacifier because we needed sleep as badly as Jack did. I thought of how "nukie" was one of his first words. I thought of how 9 month old Lucy (who has never wanted a pacifier) would tackle her brother to the ground to take his nukie from him and he would let her. I thought of how he would launch it out of his mouth just to make Lucy laugh. I thought of all the car rides that were blissfully quiet as he happily sucked on that nuk.

I cried. I never cry. Never. I felt horrible for deliberately cutting that nukie, I felt horrible for giving him that nukie in the first place, I felt horrible for feeling horrible when I knew I was doing the right thing. And, while I was feeling worse and worse, my son calmed down and fell asleep. I snuck back to my own bed, and thank God, Jack did not awaken again that night because I totally would have caved and got him out a hidden nuk. Morning came, and so did a few more tears for nukie and a few more at naptime and a few more at bedtime. But, it was better, and so was the next day. By the time Jay came home the following day, it was almost bearable to be in our house. Jack survived, I survived and Jay was quite happy to miss the whole ordeal! Jack still talks quite affectionately about nukie and we still avoid that aisle in Target, but he is no longer sleeping with the broken nukie. We did it!