I am a bit ashamed to admit this as, well, I have done this four other times. Presumably, I am an experienced mom.
Somehow, with miracle #5, I allowed the beguiling toothless one to seduce me into thinking he was different and that he really required either being nursed to sleep or being held and rocked until solidly out and then gingerly placed into the crib. Transfer a moment too soon and you had to go back to Go without collecting your $200 and begin again. 8-10:30 each night was spent in some variation of this loop until we all collapsed in exhaustion. He also trained me well into getting up a couple of times a night to feed him and soothe him back to sleep. Naps? Fuhgeddaboutit.
At our six month well check, the pediatrician confirmed what I knew in my gut but hadn't wanted to face: the kid was playing me. It's interesting, isn't it, how we often do know what we don't want to know?
Furthermore, the prescription for remedy--put him down awake and don't pick him up again--proved no surprise. The fact that my beloved chubster really hated for me to put him down awake and really cried earnest tears lulled me into doing what was easy, natural and seemed compassionate. In the long run, though, I was doing him no favors. Learning to self-soothe to sleep is important for babies and they sleep longer and better once they master this.
Day 1 was a solid hour of crying, but still down for the night an hour earlier than by the old method. Day 2 20 minutes of crying. Tonight, barely a peep. He woke not once on night one and only once last night. I did give him his paccy then, but he got himself back to sleep.
So, yes, he's different. Fearfully and wonderfully made. But, as the wisecracking email tag line puts it, "Of course you're unique. Just like everyone else."
Seems we creatures, whether baby or grown form, get into the most trouble when we think we are the exception to the rule, don't we?