Crazy in the Night

Here's something I shared in my "online journal" (because "blog" wasn't a word in wide use at the time) on November 4, 2001: -- Oh, and please join me in remembering that this means D was a whopping 2 DAYS old at the time -- "There are probably all sorts of psychological ramifications of this, but Daphne slept in the bed with us for most of the night last night (she cried from 10:05 until 11:00 and I figured that was enough of that; we tried again at 2:00 and she cried until 2:30)... she does so well when she knows someone is close by."

To reiterate: I had been brainwashed to believe that sleeping in bed WITH DESIGNATED CARE-GIVERS was something that would negatively impact my TWO DAY OLD INFANT. Sigh. 

Anyhoo, suffice it to say that I am not a natural-born co-sleeper. If it wasn't "How will they ever individuate?!" then it was "I'm too light a sleeper; I'd wake up at every roll-over" ad infinitum.

However, Mal simply refused to sleep if someone (typically me) weren't touching him bodily for months and months. 

Four and a half years later, here we are. I'm still sleeping in the same room he's in.

Contrast this with when D was 9, and Ken and I were in full divorce swing but still living in the same house. I was sleeping on the pull-out sofa sleeper, and D wanted to sleep in the living room with me. I refused. I just thought it was "weird" for parents to sleep with their kids.

(And, yes, there are MANY things I'd change about my initial foray into parenting, as we've covered many times.)

There are so many times Mal wakes up in the night needs reassurance. I'm sure D did, too, but since there was no one in the room... we just didn't know. And, yeah, most kids get over it and go back to sleep. I remember being TERRIFIED some nights, when I was a child. Whether it was a storm or I was awakened because I needed to use the restroom or I had a scary thought I just couldn't shake, I'd be absolutely petrified, but would try to cover every inch of myself (blanket protection, you know) and close my eyes. I'd will myself to fall back to sleep and not pee the bed because there was no way I was going to risk running across the bedroom floor... who knows what might shoot out from under the bed?

I knew, logically, that I wasn't in actual danger. I also knew that calling for "help" was ridiculous because of that. But I am certain I could have experienced much less anxiety and a quicker return to sleep if I'd had a reassuring hand on my back for a few moments.

Last night, Mal woke up and said, "You have to save me!" I was right there, reaching for him and assuring him, "I got you. I'm right here." He said, "I'm in bed. You didn't have to save me! I thought I was up on the counter bar, really high." Then, "Can I touch your belly?" And he went back to sleep.

We tried to find a transitional object for Mal when he was about two years old and I was tired of nursing (joke's on me with that one, I suppose). He liked stuffed animal and blankets fine, but none of them were particularly comforting to him. What was? My belly. 

For some reason, if he can rub my belly for a minute or two, it helps him calm down. You know how Al Bundy on "Married with Children" would sit and watch TV with his hand in his waistband? That's what Mal does with me. It helps him maintain contact with my skin without having to bear his own hand's weight. That way he can fall asleep, and I can just place his hand on his bed when he's out.

Is this weird? Maybe. But it's weird AND sweet.

I AM a light sleeper, but I find that I don't actually wake up for every breath and every movement. I DO wake up quickly when he actually needs something.

Actually, I do that for D, too. I can go from REM to catching a spider on the bathroom ceiling in about 45 seconds.

Mal's awake now, and he remembers waking up thinking he needed "saving." He said he "glitched" from the cabinet bar and ended up back in bed. Cute stuff. 

Our day started, I leave you with this: One of my favorites from my own childhood.