*so sleepy*
The worst night of sleep I ever had was in December of 2004. A combination of things made me terribly uncomfortable. I was at David’s parents house, in a strange bed. The poodles were pacing and making a ton of noise, shut in the bedroom with us. I had left my medicine at home. I was 20 or 21 weeks pregnant and needing to pee every hour or so. I had an unbearable headache. Oh, and it was Christmas Eve. That may have been the biggest strike against me — I have never gotten over my childhood inability to sleep through the giddiness of Christmas Eve. I was able to enjoy the Christmas morning activities the next day despite being under the fog of a hangover-quality headache. Every light I saw increased the pain — from the pinpricks of twinkling lights on the tree to the stabs of the sunlight reflecting off the snow in the backyard.
Why am I telling this not-so-pleasant Christmas tale in late August? To point out that last night was not the worst night of sleep I’ve ever had. But for Pea, I believe it was. After a poor afternoon nap, I hoped that she might sleep through the night like she did Monday. No such luck. When David got home from work around 9:30 (arrgh!) I greeted him at the door to warn him to be silent. She had just fallen asleep. I think she stayed in her crib until about two. She hasn’t been back since.
I tried the regular tricks. Singing and rocking. Teething tablets. When I realized that she had a fever, I gave her some Motrin. A clean diaper. A bottle of warm milk. More singing and rocking. And more. The problem wasn’t getting her to fall asleep — it was transferring her from my arms to the crib. So I decided that maybe we could both get some sleep elsewhere.
Our bed was the obvious choice, but I thought that at least one person in this house should get a good night’s sleep. I knew that when she had some sleeping issues when I was out of town, David was able to get her to sleep in our bed. However, he didn’t sleep so well those nights with her restless kicking and thrashing about. (She sleeps like her mama.) She slept for a few minutes in the living room chair after her bottle, but it wasn’t too comfortable for me. So we tried the couch.
She was able to sleep there for a little while. I had my legs stretched out, and she was chest-to-chest with me. I wrapped my arms around her in such a way that she wouldn’t be able to roll off in her sleep. I couldn’t exactly get comfortable. Under the living room fan, I was a bit chilly with no covers. Except for the part of me covered by a feverish toddler, which was getting sort of sweaty. I didn’t want to make her warmer with a blanket, nor did I want to get up to find one. I was able to drift to sleep, if only for a few minutes.
***dream intermission***
In my dream, we woke up at 6:30. I looked out the window and saw our garbage can by the road. I thought this was odd, because it wasn’t garbage day. I could see the shadow of a neighbor walking away from our house. I could tell that it was a man, but didn’t see any identifying features. I knew that he had put something in the mailbox. When I opened the door to retrieve the note, a strong wind blew me to the ground. Alex, Zoe, and Pea all ran out the front door. I was too weak to stand. The note blew from the mailbox to my hand. It suggested that I get a muzzle for my child and have the dogs put to sleep. “No one in the neighbourhood can sleep,” it informed me. It was signed “The Blahblah Drive Neighbourhood Association.”
***end dream intermission***
Maybe it doesn’t sound so scary to you, but I woke up in a panic. Pea was trying to roll over on her back, so I took her to her room to try to place her in her crib once again. As with all my other attempts, she rose to her knees with a cry as soon as I released her. We went back to the couch for a while longer.
Eventually, maybe around five, we did move to the king-sized bed normally shared by David and me. I tried to place her between us, but she wanted to climb on David. I put her back on my chest instead. This worked until she rolled off toward the edge of the bed. I guarded her with my arm while she slept a while longer. Around 6:30 the room was filling with light, and she decided it was time to get up. I could hardly hold my eyes open for the first few hours of the day. Now I am praying that after lunch she will take a nice two or three hour nap so I can do the same.
I have always felt like her sleep problems were on the bad side of normal. Last night (and this afternoon, so far) seemed to be on the bad side of bad. It’s almost like she’s afraid of her crib. She’s so tired right now. She shows it by staring blankly into space whenever she takes a break from throwing books off the shelf, tossing clean diapers into the pail with the dirties, and generally being a whirlwind of destruction. It’s the eye of Hurricane Pea, I guess. If this storm doesn’t pass soon, the moderate headache I have now is going to escalate. It’s going to be like Christmas Eve 2004 all over again, just without any presents the next morning.
ETA:
She’s napping now, and I’m about to do the same thing. My point was not “my kid can’t sleep and you should feel bad for me,” but rather “my kid can’t sleep and I’m worried about her.” I hope it didn’t come across the wrong way.
It didn’t come across the wrong way. Get some rest, mama.
Sounds like Evelyn Crabbytree and Pea should get together in the middle of the night and party. E. has done the exact same thing the past four nights (she is teething, but I have trouble believing that’s the only thing going on). It’s insane. Both children only want me and only me at the same time (Michael for obvious reasons); Evelyn just won’t accept her father putting her back to bed in the middle of the night. What I wouldn’t give for some sleep…