Mr. Sandman has left the building.
In fact, I think he straight up ran, never to return,
despite our best efforts that even involve bribery, trickery and straight up
begging.
For more than three weeks now, our “read a few books, throw
in a snuggle, lights out and he’ll sleep for 12-14 hours solid” kiddo has
turned into something more of a soldier on night duty required to stand at
attention every 45 minutes starting at 12:45 a.m. Though in this case our
little soldier demonstrates more fear, anxiety and racing thoughts than an aura
of protection…
Like clockwork, he now takes hours to put down, pulling out
all the stops, his eyes dancing wildly as he brain shakes out the remaining
thoughts of the day. After heroic
efforts (if I do say so myself), he wakes between 12:45 and 1:15 a.m., then
consistently for about every 45 minutes as if he’s demonstrating an exorcism.
Needless to say it’s not good for his health, our marriage
is being put to the test and our house? Might as well be condemned due to
neglect. But my career? Thriving. Because really, why bother getting two hours
of sleep in a row when you just have to interrupt it soon after. Might as well
grab your laptop and get through your 250 emails of the day…
But this isn’t about me, it’s about him. It’s about
returning him to the comfort that was once his world, showing him there can be
peace found in the stillness of the night and that dreams can provide a vivid
picture to what the universe can hold into the future. It’s about teaching him
independence and trust in him, while also reminding him that no one will love,
protect or be there for him more fiercely than his Mommy. It’s about teaching
someone as little as two to understand fear and anxiety and helping them cope
with limited skills and understanding. It’s about balancing that fine line of
baby-toddler-preschooler consistently without tipping off the wire time and
time again, only to start all over again. And it’s about loving
unconditionally, while also trying desperately not to let your love get in the way
of what’s best for your child. And I’m certain it’s about persistence,
patients, grace and kindness, though we’re finding we have to dig deeper and
deeper to explore that.
In other words: it’s complicated.
Seriously? I’m the gal all the other gals call or email at 2
a.m. for sleep tips. I have worksheets I dole out, Facebook messages I copy and
paste and swear by Weissbluth’s secret, passing it along time and time again to
Moms who hit this stage with their wee ones.
But mine? Not so wee anymore. Mama’s in a whole new
ballgame. And I’m losing desperately.
I’m not going to lie: it’s incredibly lonely. And maddening.
Sometimes I find myself nestled on the staircase of our home, torn between
wanting to bawl my eyes out, punch a wall, crawl into bed with him or just get
in the 4Runner and drive until I was lost in an abyss of quiet and solitude
where no one at all needed anything from me and where slumber could find my eyelids.
At social events I fight to keep a smile plastered on my face, terrified that
if I share how tired and stressed I am over this small issue that I will be
deemed a terrible mother and person. After all, I remind myself time and time
again that this too shall pass and that I will mourn these days where he
actually wanted to be in my arms at every waking hour. And that it’s not
cancer, poverty or any of those things that are significant. And that when
another child blesses our lives, this may be the case again (though I remember
mostly waking every 2-3 hours?!) When the negativity settles in I pray it’s
from fatigue and blame it on the theory that less than three hours of sleep a
night for weeks at a time is truly a form of torture, which is why my spirit
seems to be slipping so far from my soul…
And sometimes I think that’s what this is all about and
something I knew I’d struggle with: I’m terrified of him growing up. After all,
isn’t growing up quite a bit about stripping innocence, leaving the nest and
having your heart hanging out to the world and its people in the most
vulnerable of states? I can’t imagine what I want to protect him from more…
I know I’m no longer making sense. In fact, it’s a symptom
of this wakefulness that has become so much a part of our daily (nightly?)
routine. And I feel incredibly guilty sharing it with the universe because,
after all, it really isn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.
This seems like more of one of those Johnson County/white wine/ get some
perspective situations, but I gotta admit, it feels a bit more in some moments.
(Hand me a violin?)
So, what do you think? Did your 2.5 year old go through
this? How long did it last and what worked for your family? Because I think
we’ve tried it all, yet days turn into nights that turn into days which have
quickly led our family to function as if we’re auditioning for parts on “The
Walking Dead.” And I don’t mean the hot guy with the 5 o’clock shadow that’s
always saving the crew…
What’cha got peeps? How do we return our son to healthy
sleep habits so he can be a happy child?
Calling on you, Mr. Sandman…
Rounding the corner of the last half-mile, cursing a hill and reminding myself of the Pinterest runner that said something about putting one foot in front of the other, I paused to focus on my iPhone, the familiar scroll of a text crossing the screen:
