Feeling oh-so-human in her 4 year old eyes
I’m not usually into guilt — by that I mean self-reproach for doing something wrong. It’s a pretty rare occasion when I engage in an act of self-flogging. That’s not to say however, that I don’t feel badly when I let someone down, as I did my daughter last night. But my feelings are more complicated than guilt.
Every mother has had the experience. I was woken out of a sound sleep for the second time (Michael had already arrived for his midnight bed-switch onto his crib mattress on our bedroom floor) and my first feeling was irritation. Oh man, here we go. First, I was enjoying the dream I was having and second my body was enjoying the heavy weight of REM sleep. With this interruption went any hope I had of waking feeling fresh, rejuvenated and ready to get back to work after 2 weeks with the kids.
She first said she had to pee, and went in to use our loo. I told myself, she’ll just leave quietly and return to her own bed having just made sure we were current on the affairs of her bladder. But no, she came over to me, buried her head beside my body and said, “Mummy, I want someone to sleep with me.” Under my still shut eye-lids, I rolled my eyes knowing that what she meant was that she wanted me to sleep with her.
It’s not that I don’t love as much as the next woman the romantic vision of snuggling up with my little one, drifting off to sleep enjoying the closeness, but that is rarely the reality. My little ones shift in bed a fair amount, so it’s wholly inaccurate to say that I could sleep with her. There would be fits of rest between fairly routine interruptions if I were to cozy up to her.
I check out the clock and confirm that it’s 2:46 a.m. This means that if I go with her I will be deep-sixing any opportunity for 3-4 hours of more sleep. I quickly calculate: I had one and a half hours sleep before Michael woke me up, then nearly 3 before Kate arrived. That 5 — with short bursts of shut eye until the alarm goes off at 7:00 — does not make for a decent night’s sleep — and that means that I will be neither the crisp thinking writer I aspire to be, nor the patient mother I hope I am.
I get up and gingerly turn her around, walk her out the door, pick her up at the top of our stairs and carry her back to her room. She starts to cry because she knows what’s coming.
Her room has a little light, but not too much. So I know it’s not that she’s scared in the dark. She’s lonely for a warm body to comfort her and I can relate to that. I prefer to sleep beside my husband over having the freshness of the cool “other-side” of the bed. I empathize with her. I feel like I’m denying her a basic human right to comfort. But as I tuck her into bed, I’m now shivering in my rawness and wanting to get back into my bed and resume my reverie. She cries again as I tuck in beside her a few favourite friends, including one large gorilla named Bobo who wraps his arm lovingly around her. I keep my hands on her for a few long moments and tell her she’s just tired and she needs to go back to sleep. I tell her about her new nocturnal company, kiss her and wish her a good sleep.
As I scamper upstairs her cry has turned into a howl, but I bargain with myself that it will be short lived as I settle under my own sheets. Listening to the animal-like cries, I shift to chastising myself for not dressing in PJs before going down with her, leaving me the option to comfortably sit with her for a few more minutes, or crawl in with her without fear of being too cool in addition to being too wakeful. Why didn’t you go prepared? Because you didn’t plan to stay with her. You think staying with only delay the truth that she is going to have to sleep alone. If this continues for more than a minute, get up, dress and go down to stay with her. Chuck reaches over and pats my leg reassuringly and says, “it won’t last, she’ll be asleep before you know it.”
He’s right. Her cries quickly subside giving me time-slot to further dissect my actions. Don’t you remember as a child being alone in the dark in your bed? Wasn’t it better when you eventually climbed in with Mom and went back to sleep with some company? Remember how you settled your fears or warmed the fright which made you cold? Why are you unable to give her what she needs when she wakes you up? You know her needs are human and acceptable, but the all-over-body tiredness takes precedence at that moment. She’ll grow out of it eventually so you can’t argue that you’re creating a habit. But she’s woken up 4 of the last 8 nights asking for company, perhaps a new pattern is emerging and I need to be consistent. Consistent? Consistently unplugged from her feelings?
I go on with myself until 3:15 and realize that I am well and truly awake now. I might as well go and keep her company, but it won’t make a different to her now, she’s asleep: asleep with the message that I won’t comfort her in the night by giving her my warm company. I toss and turn, hot and cold until I see the clock register times well after 4 a.m. When do fall back to sleep I dream of how I can send love to her without being in the same room.
In the morning, my first thoughts are of seeing her sunny face at my bedside, but she doesn’t come up to me. When I go to her, she’s groggy but easily aroused. I sit on her bed and ask if I can hold her on my lap. She eagerly climbs up, her long 4 1/2 year old legs wrapping themselves around my back. As she rests her head on me, I tell her I’m sorry she cried during the night. I use my hands to put love back into her and apologize for being unhelpful to her in the night. I explain that I’m not very good when I’m woken up at night, and I wish I was better. She looks knowingly at me, not helping me to feel better or worse.
“Next time I’ll put on my PJs and stay with you a few more minutes, would that be better?” “Yes”, she agrees, silently acquiescing to what I am able to give, rather than hearing what she needs. Even as a 4 year old, she recognizes the unfairness of life living with other human beings. But she is still willing to give her unconditional love in the face of that inadequacy. For that relationship I am blessed and grateful she accepts what I can offer — an honest telling of our relationship.