I get to bed before 11pm and actually fall asleep rather quickly. A rarity with all of the pain I've been in lately. About an hour and a half later, at around 12:45am I hear a cry. I wait. Sometimes she cries out in her sleep. If she needs me she makes it abundantly clear. "Mommy, mommy! Please come!!!!!". Ok, it's clear. I creak out of bed and head into her pitch black room. She seems to be ok. She's not crying or in pain, just awake. I give her a dose of melatonin (or minty powder as we call it) and ask her if she's ok and ready to go back to sleep. "Yes" is the answer I get. Oh thank goodness I think, as this is going well in comparison with some of our more recent night time upsets.
I tuck her in and then settle myself in the Lazy Boy recliner and cover myself with a pink fluffy blanket. I have been locked into this pattern of coming into her room and sitting on "that damn chair" while she falls asleep ever since hubby's return from his firefighter course. The entire 9 months he was away I never once got into bed with her or stayed in her room for any length of time when she had trouble falling or getting back to sleep. I knew what would happen if I gave in, even once. But hubby didn't. When he was finally home and was overwhelmed by his sleep deprived, cranky wife and more than a bit confused as to our routines and Lily's inflexibility (which had become much worse in his long absence), he caved. He got into bed with her when she was not able to sleep. And so started the cycle.......
So I finally got to a point where I could sit in "that damn chair" (which at that point was more like a little piece of leather heaven after contorting myself to sleep in her twin bed on the floor, surrounded by gates that I had to climb over to get out) while she fell back asleep. And I am still tied to that chair, every night at bedtime and any time she wakes at night. For the most part it is a good solution. Unless I have to sit there for more than thirty minutes I can bear it. She is comfortable with my presence and no longer is upset that I am not actually in bed with her.
So anyways, back to last night. After about fifteen minutes I think it is safe to get up and leave. I slowly tiptoe out of her room, cursing my cracking knee and clumsy attempt to close the door silently. But she does not stir. I breathe a sigh of relief. I crawl into bed and fall asleep. Fifteen minutes later a squeaky voice cries out "mommy, are you in the chair? Mommy, where are YOU?" Oh no, not another night like this. I drag myself out of bed for the second time and make my way into the cave that is her room. She needs total darkness to sleep and has a white noise CD on repeat. On good days it hypnotizes me with it's womb like atmosphere. On bad nights it feels like prison. Like last night. I again stay for about 15 minutes. I know this because I always bring the cordless phone with me. I didn't always. But there is nothing worse than being in pain, in the dark, AND not having a clue how much time is passing. So I always have the phone with me now. Sometimes I forget pants, but never that phone!
I get up to leave. So far so good. No little voice asking "what are you doing mommy?" as I lie and say "just stretching honey" and sink back into the chair and admit defeat. I again make it to the comfy softness of my bed. I again fall asleep quickly. This, in and of itself should have been a warning. I rarely fall asleep quickly. When I do, I am always woken soon after by something.... Lily crying out, hubby snoring, a random noise inside or outside of the house. Last night it was Lily for the third time. More insistent and upset in her "Mommy, SIT IN THE CHAIR! Mommy, COME BACK...COME BACK! So, I go. What else can I do? I have tried letting her cry, I have tried checking on her and then leaving, I have tried using hubby as a substitute. All of those ensure a sleepless remainder of the night. Going in at least offers some hope that another hour or two of sleep might follow.
This time I am at the end of my emotional rope. I am so tired. And in so much pain. My neck and back are screaming at me and hot fire is shooting down my legs from my hips. A migraine is starting. My hands are throbbing. But I sit. And sit. And sit. Fifteen minutes comes and goes. She is not yet asleep. Silent tears, born of pain and frustration, run down my face. I dare not make a sound. And I sit. A few times I get myself ready to leave, but merely thinking about leaving sends a remote signal to her brain (or at least that's how it seems in my sleep deprived state) and she does something to let me know she is not yet deep asleep. She might ask a question, or utter a soft cry, or merely breathe loudly. So I sit. IN. THAT. DAMN. CHAIR. I have come to hate that chair and the powerlessness I associate with it. This would be a good time to remember about how surrendering can bring peace. But I am too tired, too frustrated, and in too much pain to do more than cry.
Finally, at 3:15am I make my attempt at escape. SUCCESS! I am free! Free to crawl, once again, into my bed and allow my body the sleep it so desperately cries for. But I lie awake. Waiting. Waiting for that fourth call. That summons back to the chair. It never comes. Sometime after 4am my body falls into the sleep of the dead. I pay for that dearly when 6am comes and I hear Lily calling me. The entire side of my face and jaw are aching so hard that I wonder who or what could have hit me while I slept. As I stumble to her room I test my jaw to make sure it still works. It does, but it hurts too much to move. And so begins another day.
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