For the past several days, I have been woken up at least twice a night by my son Choo-choo. Lack of sleep is usually bad for just about everyone, me included. I end up exhausted, obviously, but there is more to it than that.
Little to no sleep leaves me crabby, anxious and even dizzy, especially with the medication I take before bed each night. This means I sometimes stumble more than walk to my son’s room to see what he needs. This also means I occasionally have to sit in our rocking chair for a few moments to gather my bearings and stop the swirling before taking Choo-choo downstairs to pee or holding him to rock before he goes back to sleep.
He doesn’t always like this, of course. Usually, though, all he says is, “Why you sitting in the rocking chair?”
So I blink my eyes a few times, take a couple deep breaths, and be the mom he needs me to be.
Once my boy is finally back in bed, I flop onto my own, sometimes accidentally bumping Diesel as he sleeps. (I am fighting the urge to say, “Because of course he never heard our kid crying,” but that isn’t fair since Diesel has to wake up so early for work nearly every day.) Then I toss and turn and fight myself to sleep some more. I have been doing that this week, anyway.
As I am dozing off, Choo-choo wakes up and cries out for me again. Of course.
But though I am not happy about it (downright irritated at times), I am there to take care of him. He needs me. Would I prefer he start sleeping through the night again like he had been recently? Uh, yeah! That just isn’t the case unfortunately.
Besides, I can always dream about how it feels to be well rested: peaceful, calming, headache-less, and…
That’s all I have because I don’t remember it!
Anyway, that time of well-rested peace will come again, right?
In the meantime, I will sleep when I can and have faith that the long nights won’t last forever.