A few days ago, while in the middle of what I'd begun to call the Bedtime Battle with H, she said something that changed everything. Her words were pure, brutally honest, and painfully sharp.
By the end of the day, typically without naps, without even a 30 second moment to myself, I just want my kids in bed. I won't lie. I'm, tired, exhausted, and just want them out of my hair so I can be a mindless zombie who doesn't respond to mommy for an hour (two hours if its a good night and they sleep a tad better).
She's almost 3. You'd think she'd just go to sleep by now. That she wouldn't wake up a million times in the middle of the night. That she'd just be quiet and go to sleep all ready.
Of course, I've never had these expectations with B. He's 18 months old and we've only just begun putting him in his own bed for the first few hours of bedtime. It was a slow transition, but I can just sit by him and sometimes hold his hand and he falls asleep.
Although we co-slept with H well past 18 months - she still ends up in bed with us for the majority of the night - I fought it most of the way. I didn't embrace it as happily and easily as I did with B. I'm sure there are a lot of reasons for it and someone could have a field day psychoanalyzing that situation, but it was what it was.
She's so much like J in that she needs very little sleep. But not me. I need lots of sleep. I need good sleep.
But that's not possible with two kids. J wants to help at night. He tries to help. But it makes it worse because my kids only want momma when they're tired so if J shows up we get meltdowns in epic proportions that take significantly longer to curb and ease them back into sleep.
Needless to say, when it comes to sleep, I'm exasperated by the time nighttime rolls around. I'm stern and cross and demanding. I expected them to immediately be quiet and go to sleep. In retrospect, that was a completely asinine expectation.
So the other day, while I sat next to B's bed and H wailed from hers, I whispered crossly, "Shush! Please go to sleep all ready."
And she cried, "Momma, won't you help me fall asleep? Don't you want to help me, please? I just need you."
If I hadn't been afraid that my immediate sobs would have put both babes in a more alert state, I'd have lost it.
The wind was knocked out of me, my stomach felt raw and sore, my heart ached.
She's almost 3. She can articulate her wants and needs much better than most 5 or 6 year olds.
She couldn't as a baby though. As a young toddler.
Here I was, willing her to sleep because I thought she should magically enter slumberland because I told her to do so. All she was doing this whole time was asking for my help. Telling me she needed me.
And I'd been pushing her away.
I curled up next to her, I played with her hair, and I told her I'd love her forever, my perfect Wilde Thing.
I kissed her head until she fell asleep on my chest. I didn't think about "Bones" playing on TV and how much of the episode I'd missed (no DVR in this house). I didn't think of the laundry I still needed to fold or the kitchen I needed to clean. I didn't think of the husband I always feel like I'm neglecting although he always assures me our kiddos come first and we're okay. I didn't have that mild panicky feeling that B might wake at the creak of the bed and this whole routine would have to be done again.
I just thought of my sweet girl and how much easier all those nights could have been if I'd have just given in. If I'd just held her tighter. Held her longer. If I would have put her needs before my own selfish wants.
I've done a lot of damage there. I know it. I can't go back and change the last 3 years of terrible bedtimes. I'm thankful that I've otherwise been a very attached parent. She's independent and secure. She has that healthy dose of seperation anxiety, but is totally happy and content when I'm gone as well. She has all the good, healthy attributes of a well-rounded child who was attach parented.
But it's still there. Right below the surface. A little girl whose needs were ignored out if convenience at times. A little girl with a momma whose patience just wasn't quite enough. A little girl expected to be so grown up before her time.
It breaks my heart. That I wasn't better. For her. I thought because I didn't leave her alone to cry my behaviors toward her were okay. But they weren't.
I will cuddle her to sleep each night until she's 40 if that's what she needs. Though I've been assured it isn't. Even if my mind starts racing and I'm annoyed 40 minutes has gone by and although she's tired and yawning she's showing no signs of succumbing to sleep, I will not show her my annoyance. Instead I will cuddle her more and tell her what an absolute joy she is to me. Because she is.
Always.
I think night time parenting in a lot of ways is far more difficult than daytime parenting. You're tired. Semi-conscious. Not completely coherent. It's just really hard.
And yet it's still so important.
From me to you, friend, when your little one, whether she is one year or ten years, needs you at night for whatever reason, go to her. Help her. Cuddle her. Love on her.some day she will be big and such things won't be needed.
But I promise you, never will you regret showing your child love and kindness. Never will you regret cuddling them and breathing in their sleepy goodness.
But you might regret ignoring them. Having the ability to meet their needs but choosing not to, simply because you think your sleep is more important than your child. Your want outweighs your child's needs.
Take it from me, you can't go back. So cuddle them and love them.
Because whether your child can articulate it or not, whether they choose to say the words to you or not, all they're saying when they're struggling to go to bed is, "Momma, won't you help me fall asleep? Don't you want to help me, please? I just need you."
And I know I always want my answer to be yes.
Yes, my Wilde Thing, my sweet H, I want to help you. I want to be there for you always.
No comments:
Post a Comment