Late nights

Choo-choo has been getting up several times in the middle of the night for two weeks now. “Mommy! Mommy!” he screams. I drag myself out of bed and to his room.

He usually asks for a tissue. He always wants to rock. Sometimes he has to go potty. But no matter what his initial need was, it still has been taking me an hour and a half up to two hours to get my son to stay quiet and in his bed long enough to fall asleep.

There have been two or three occasions when I was still in the hallway when Choo-choo called me back. One night, he called me back ten times in fifteen minutes, I’m not even kidding. I’ve had to threaten to take his beloved stuffed animals away and put them in time out. I have actually¬†put one in time out for five minutes. I’ve rocked him and sung to him a million times. I have begged him to close his eyes and let me return to my room. He just won’t let either of us sleep.

It’s only when exhaustion takes over that he nods off. Even then, he’s often awake an hour or two later for us to do it all again.

I have tried napping when he does to make up for my lack of night sleep, but it does no good. I no longer have bags under my eyes; I have crevasses. And because of my anti-depressant medication, every time I have to rouse myself from sleep to comfort my son, I feel so very nauseous and dizzy.

Needless to say, I am completely at a loss as to what to do or what is going on in his mind. It almost feels like he is worried about me, and if that’s the case, that just breaks my heart.

You see, he overheard me on the phone trying to schedule a doctor’s appointment for me. I explained to him over and over that it’s just a check-up, like the ones he has, and that I am okay. I told him again and again that I am all right. This didn’t seem to help any, however.

The fact that my explanations didn’t help bothers me. I don’t want my son to worry. I want him to be joyous and¬†carefree. He is still so little.

After the dozen (not kidding) requests for more hugs and kisses each time I put him in bed, Choo-choo always asks if I am happy. Am I feeling happy in those moments? Usually, heck to the no!! Do I tell him I am? Absolutely!!

I lie the best I can because I know if he thinks he hasn’t made me happier, he will keep calling me back. Granted, it is difficult to feign happiness when nauseous and irritated to no end, but I do my best.

I will say that right after my visit to the doctor’s office, Choo-choo seemed contented with my answer to his question of how it went. I told him they checked my blood pressure and heart like his doctors do. I explained that they also checked my height and weight (which, UGH!!! but that’s a story for another day). I really hope this helps ease his fears.

For now, I will continue to hold him, rock him, sing to him, and yes, beg him or bribe him to sleep if need be.

Author: stepbackandbreathe33

I am a writer, mother, wife, and fighter in the battle against depression, anxiety, OCD, and PTSD.

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