My second born has always been much more mellow than my first born, from day 1. That being the case, his first true bout of separation anxiety, which started around nine months in and is still ongoing nearly two months later.
It may or may not have been exacerbated by a couple of things. He was diagnosed with iron deficiency anemia at nine months, which isn't exactly uncommon, but his is a pretty stubborn case (as subsequent monitoring by the pediatrician showed... Poor baby had to have a blood draw). The pediatrician suspects that it's led to him not sleeping well.
And then, there's the crib issue. People will tell you that infants do not necessarily hate cribs, and can adapt to them. I would have been in that number, in the past. That said, my son just hates, haaaates the crib. Unlike my daughter, who was a tough customer but eventually relented on it, and even grew to love the crib (she spent the next two years happily in it, even asking to sleep in it on occasion after she had moved to her big girl bed). The son? He screams and screams and screams all purplefaced and angry. I've tried everything: being right there, not being right there, cry it out, the no-cry method... It doesn't change the fact that he screams in rage at any and all attempts to put him in a crib, even for naps (the daughter would take naps in the crib as early as at 4 months, she just refused to sleep in it at night).
I even moved into his room for two weeks, hoping to slowly acclimate him to the room. He's perfectly happy sleeping in it, as long as he's not sleeping inside the crib. Oh, and mom has to be near enough to smell.
Finally, after no sleep induced near insanity on part of yours truly (going as far as accusing the husband, poor guy, of sabotaging my attempts to train the kid to sleep), I gave in and put the kid back in bed with us. I know what some of you are going to say: cosleeping is supposedly "risky" (though to be fair, I might argue that it's probably because us Americans are lazy and soft, and so are our beds). Nevermind that the kid has been happily doing it for nine months plus (me? Not so happy, but my sleep problems predate his arrival). Nevermind that his mattress is not necessarily so comfortable, given the flame retardant standards all crib bedding is supposed to go through.* He might be better in a bed of his own, rather than rolled two centimeters away from me. He's not budging, and I just could not take another night of what has been a three week power struggle.
If only it ended there. It goes further than that. I can not, literally, can not leave a room when it's just me and him, and sometimes even if his dad and sister are there. He'll cry, scream and crawl his way towards me, lately also using my legs as handrails as he attempts to pull up (which he's doing a whole lot) and then screams in my legs.
Then there's the whole not letting me shower alone. Our new house has a pretty fancy, brand new attic turned into master bedroom, complete with the fanciest shower ever. Seriously, the shower alone is nearly as big as our bathroom back in our one bedroom apartment days in Austin was. Kiddo has learned how to push the shower door open, and keeps trying to crawl around while I take showers. At first it was cute. After a week of not being able to take more than two minutes to myself to shower, it's starting to wear thin. I'm considering installing a childproof latch, even if it turns out to be a pain in the ass.
The husband, ever so practical, dared suggest that maybe I should look at it as an opportunity to skip nightly bathtime. To which I let out a "NOOOO! That is MY private time. It's the five minutes of physical space I get away from him on many occasions, and I will not give it up".
That's right: the cats might have won the privilege to watch me pee and shower, as have the kids (thankfully, the daughter is more interested in the bathroom mirrors these days). On some days, you might find either kind of creature vying for my lap as I use the commode. I might have lost all inkling of what it's like like to occupy half of my own bed, but dammit, taking a shower alone is my Rubicon. If I give up that privilege, I might as well pack it up and go live out in the wilderness (I'd probably get slightly more privacy).
* Seriously. We tried Montessori style sleeping, with him on his mattress, on the floor, and me in a sleeping bag. Guess which one was more comfortable?