The dark childish voice speaks out
My prayer remains unanswered. I am having one of those days where I despair that I will ever have a proper night of sleep again.
After 4 years of fairly regular nocturnal interruptions, I know I am not a good mother when I am sleep deprived. I have no patience, but recently it’s more than that. There is a dark voice, a petty childish voice that if left uncensored, can jab back sarcastically at the real needs of my little kids. I sound like I’m about 3 years old and want the kids to go home from this playdate. But this playdate is my reality and the dark voice in me is getting a bit pissy about it.
The night went like this: First Kate had a bad dream and got out of bed to come for some midnight comfort. In doing so, she interrupted her brother who was sleeping-over in her bed and the two of them emerged at my bedside, whining. Not a moment made in heaven, but because it was still early in the night I was able to pull it together to provide comfort and a new plan. A queen size bed, already over heated by two adults has no room for two more bodies. I could not rationalize that it was almost dawn when the path of least resistance (bodies in our bed) was the path of choice. I had to get up. So I reassured Kate, and resettled them both in some bed other than ours.
But it wasn’t long before I was awoken again by Kate, then again, and then again when Michael wanted milk around 5:00. Near enough to the early 6:15 a.m. alarm my husband had set that I was snookered for the remainder of my sleeping time. I would not drift back to sleep after hollering down the stairs that it’s too early for milk. I would endure his painful, distraught cry — the one which tells me I am devastating him — until I could will myself to get out of bed and return him once again to his own. “You’ll get milk when it’s time to get up.” I reassured him. But the dark voice in me was yelling, “Go back to bed and leave me alone!”
I began the day full of resentment, that petty childish voice whining in my head about the endlessness of their interruptions. I did not consult my husband to see how he was feeling. I know the answer. I have stopped feeling guilty about how it affects him. It is no longer my problem to solve. It just is.
I cup of tea helped. But I was left moving through the remainder of my day wondering when it will change, and praying now that I can keep the dark voice inside my head, and off my tongue. Pathetic fallacy reigned the day as wind, dark clouds and a warm autumn rain came to dominate my landscape. I’m not yet dug out of this funk.
September 13th, 2006 at 5:00 am
I’m back to comment again! Just wanted to say: you are not alone experiencing that dark voice. In dealing with probably a less frustrating issue (no naps in a 2 year old that seems to still need them), I’ve had a similar voice roaring inside me. Maybe it helps to know you’re not alone….and like most things, this too shall pass. Hang in there.