my little night terror
You have never been a good sleeper. I tell people that I did not have a full night's sleep for three years - between the discomfort of pregnancy and your nightly crying fits, this is not an exaggeration.
You became *capable* of sleeping through the night after around age 2, but even now at Nearly 4 your sleep habits are erratic and, well, infuriating.
I'm beginning to suspect that you have inherited a tendency towards night terrors from my side of the family. Either that, or you have some form of sleep rage - which may also be a legacy from me. Either way, I'm not proud of passing this on, and I really wish you'd quit it the hell out.
When you have a "fit", which happens 1, 2, 3 times a week, you start by calling out in your sleep. This invariably happens just when Mommy and Daddy have started drifting off to sleep. We are pulled back into weary wake-fullness and lie cringing, waiting to see if the intermittent whining and wailing coming from your room is going to taper off.
Sometimes it does, and we finish the night without incident.
Sometimes it only gets louder, more insistent, until one of us has to get up and go in.
Sometimes, it goes away, only to come back an hour later, after we've finally drifted off to sleep again. And repeat, ad nauseum.
The thing is, there isn't much that we can do when you are in one of your full-blown fits, because it all happens while you're asleep. You whine, yell, cry, thrash out, sit up, even carry on a conversation (of sorts, usually more like an argument) - all while still asleep.
Sometimes Mommy or Daddy can lull you back to sleep - sometimes after a few tries by each of us. And though the word "lull" sounds peacefull enough, I cannot express to you just how hellish these episodes can be. Remember that your father leaves for work in the wee hours of morning, and is a perpetually tired man, and your mother is in ill health and cannot even stand in the evenings without a headache.*
And there are times, my darling boy, like last night, when the only way out of hell is to turn on all the lights and holler at you until you wake up. Then we give you water, talk softly, turn out the lights again, and hope to Godz you stay asleep this time.
It's a wonder I can even bear to look at you in the morning after a night like that. And yet, when I stumble into your bedroom, all bleary-eyed and miserable, and I pick you up out of your crib, all warm and cuddly in your pajamas, I still feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
Damn you.
*Also, you may not know this, being as you are the cause of my estrangement from slumber-land, but there is little in this world that I love more than a 10-hour night's sleep. It pretty much goes:
1. You
2. Sleep
3. Life itself - and so on.
You became *capable* of sleeping through the night after around age 2, but even now at Nearly 4 your sleep habits are erratic and, well, infuriating.
I'm beginning to suspect that you have inherited a tendency towards night terrors from my side of the family. Either that, or you have some form of sleep rage - which may also be a legacy from me. Either way, I'm not proud of passing this on, and I really wish you'd quit it the hell out.
When you have a "fit", which happens 1, 2, 3 times a week, you start by calling out in your sleep. This invariably happens just when Mommy and Daddy have started drifting off to sleep. We are pulled back into weary wake-fullness and lie cringing, waiting to see if the intermittent whining and wailing coming from your room is going to taper off.
Sometimes it does, and we finish the night without incident.
Sometimes it only gets louder, more insistent, until one of us has to get up and go in.
Sometimes, it goes away, only to come back an hour later, after we've finally drifted off to sleep again. And repeat, ad nauseum.
The thing is, there isn't much that we can do when you are in one of your full-blown fits, because it all happens while you're asleep. You whine, yell, cry, thrash out, sit up, even carry on a conversation (of sorts, usually more like an argument) - all while still asleep.
Sometimes Mommy or Daddy can lull you back to sleep - sometimes after a few tries by each of us. And though the word "lull" sounds peacefull enough, I cannot express to you just how hellish these episodes can be. Remember that your father leaves for work in the wee hours of morning, and is a perpetually tired man, and your mother is in ill health and cannot even stand in the evenings without a headache.*
And there are times, my darling boy, like last night, when the only way out of hell is to turn on all the lights and holler at you until you wake up. Then we give you water, talk softly, turn out the lights again, and hope to Godz you stay asleep this time.
It's a wonder I can even bear to look at you in the morning after a night like that. And yet, when I stumble into your bedroom, all bleary-eyed and miserable, and I pick you up out of your crib, all warm and cuddly in your pajamas, I still feel like the luckiest woman in the world.
Damn you.
*Also, you may not know this, being as you are the cause of my estrangement from slumber-land, but there is little in this world that I love more than a 10-hour night's sleep. It pretty much goes:
1. You
2. Sleep
3. Life itself - and so on.