Night Waking
When you first bring that new baby home and you learn how to sleep in three hour shifts, you can expect lots of comments from friends who are already parents along the lines of "It gets easier." Those first few months pass in a blur of marathon breastfeeding sessions and fumbling for something on the nightstand when the baby wakes up at 2am, then 5:30 am. Then the baby starts feeding less frequently and starts sleeping for 5, 6 then 10 hour stretches and you expel a happy sigh of relief to have made it through the "hard part."
Eliza started sleeping through the night at six weeks. This nightly act of sleeping fitfully for ten hours elicited envy, awestruck exclamations and sneaky glances at my boobs as other Moms wondered "what I had in there." She'd wake in the night maybe once or twice a week but the rest of the time, she was pretty predictable. Down at 10, up at six, C and I patted ourselves on the back and lifted our eyes towards a higher power in gratitude. I managed to tune out conversations about sleep training and crying it out.
At four months, Eliza began to wake once a night every night. After getting used to my fit little sleeper, this nightly interruption was greatly discombobulating. C and I started fighting, my hair started looking decidedly askew and my brain/mouth coordination went haywire. Suddenly, I'd say North Carolina when I meant South, right when I meant left, FU when I meant, hey great to see you. The adrenaline rush of the first few months was over and with four months of sleep deprivation, I found myself a shoe in for the lead in "Taming of the Shrew."
However, this night waking was soon corrected when Eliza started on cereal. With the simple introduction of solid food, my little night waker morphed right back into night sleeper. I rejoiced again at my success and took to going to bed earlier, close to when she did in case the problem returned.
Fast forward now to 7 and a half months and the night waking has returned what feels like a fever pitch. The bigger problem though is my ability to return to REM sleep has completely gone away. When she's up, I'm up and then some. Right now, I've got a happy sleepy apartment and I'm pounding away at a computer keyboard, terrified at what I'll be like tomorrow (today).
It started shortly before 7months. She was up for one long night and the following day I felt and certainly looked like an extra in a George Romero film. When a cold came, I figured this new sleep disturbance was caused by the cold and would go away with the cold. The cold lasted about ten days and so did the night waking. When she slept through the night for the first time, again I believed all would be well. Two nights later, the night waking started again, then a fever came on and I believed this was all due to a long sickness.
Finally this week, she slept through the night on Tuesday. Then Wednesday, then Thursday and even Friday. I, unfortunately, now accustomed to sleep interruptions, did not fare as well. I woke at four the first night, sort of waiting for her to wake up. As the minutes ticked by and still she didn't wake, I couldn't find that switch to turn off my mind and slide back into sleep. Wednesday night, the same thing happened though I did manage to squeeze in an extra hour or two before I woke. Thursday, I manged another extra hour. By Friday, I had worked my way up to almost 6 1/2 hours of sleep. I felt great Saturday, ready to celebrate, ready to maybe make it seven hours tonight.
Here it is, 3:27 am, technically it's Sunday and I'm wide awake. Eliza woke up shortly before 2, I nursed her back down (an activity frowned on at this age as an act that will scar your child with the inability to fall back asleep on her own) and then crept back to bed. I closed my eyes and found a comfortable position. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, I gave up. I wonder what kind of shrew I'll be tomorrow.
Ambien commercials are suddenly garnering the same kind of lust for me as images of Brad Pitt with his shirt off. I wonder what it's like to get a full 8-10 hours of sleep. I don't think I've had that since last October, before I got too big with Eliza and had to get up to pee three times a night. Suddenly conversations about sleep training pique my interest. I hear other Mom's tales of moving into the living room and I salivate with envy. A room seperate from my baby. I love her and love waking up to look at her in the morning, but oh how a room of my own seems like cloud. This past week I had the opportunity at my mother's to put her in a room downstairs and sleep upstairs. But every night, I couldn't do it afraid of not hearing her, afraid she'd wake up in this room she didn't really recognize and wonder where I'd gone.
In ten days Eliza will be eight months old. She's so happy now, loves the swings at the park, giggles uncontrollable when I chew on her chubby legs and sits forward in her stroller, excited to take in the world. Every day with her feels like a newsreel of great moments worth recording. And yet, I'm exhausted, frazzled, desperate for sleep and somehow unable to do so. One mother described this as the greatest endurance test she'd ever taken. Loving my daughter, that's the easy part. But when does the sleep thing, when does that end?
Eliza started sleeping through the night at six weeks. This nightly act of sleeping fitfully for ten hours elicited envy, awestruck exclamations and sneaky glances at my boobs as other Moms wondered "what I had in there." She'd wake in the night maybe once or twice a week but the rest of the time, she was pretty predictable. Down at 10, up at six, C and I patted ourselves on the back and lifted our eyes towards a higher power in gratitude. I managed to tune out conversations about sleep training and crying it out.
At four months, Eliza began to wake once a night every night. After getting used to my fit little sleeper, this nightly interruption was greatly discombobulating. C and I started fighting, my hair started looking decidedly askew and my brain/mouth coordination went haywire. Suddenly, I'd say North Carolina when I meant South, right when I meant left, FU when I meant, hey great to see you. The adrenaline rush of the first few months was over and with four months of sleep deprivation, I found myself a shoe in for the lead in "Taming of the Shrew."
However, this night waking was soon corrected when Eliza started on cereal. With the simple introduction of solid food, my little night waker morphed right back into night sleeper. I rejoiced again at my success and took to going to bed earlier, close to when she did in case the problem returned.
Fast forward now to 7 and a half months and the night waking has returned what feels like a fever pitch. The bigger problem though is my ability to return to REM sleep has completely gone away. When she's up, I'm up and then some. Right now, I've got a happy sleepy apartment and I'm pounding away at a computer keyboard, terrified at what I'll be like tomorrow (today).
It started shortly before 7months. She was up for one long night and the following day I felt and certainly looked like an extra in a George Romero film. When a cold came, I figured this new sleep disturbance was caused by the cold and would go away with the cold. The cold lasted about ten days and so did the night waking. When she slept through the night for the first time, again I believed all would be well. Two nights later, the night waking started again, then a fever came on and I believed this was all due to a long sickness.
Finally this week, she slept through the night on Tuesday. Then Wednesday, then Thursday and even Friday. I, unfortunately, now accustomed to sleep interruptions, did not fare as well. I woke at four the first night, sort of waiting for her to wake up. As the minutes ticked by and still she didn't wake, I couldn't find that switch to turn off my mind and slide back into sleep. Wednesday night, the same thing happened though I did manage to squeeze in an extra hour or two before I woke. Thursday, I manged another extra hour. By Friday, I had worked my way up to almost 6 1/2 hours of sleep. I felt great Saturday, ready to celebrate, ready to maybe make it seven hours tonight.
Here it is, 3:27 am, technically it's Sunday and I'm wide awake. Eliza woke up shortly before 2, I nursed her back down (an activity frowned on at this age as an act that will scar your child with the inability to fall back asleep on her own) and then crept back to bed. I closed my eyes and found a comfortable position. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, I gave up. I wonder what kind of shrew I'll be tomorrow.
Ambien commercials are suddenly garnering the same kind of lust for me as images of Brad Pitt with his shirt off. I wonder what it's like to get a full 8-10 hours of sleep. I don't think I've had that since last October, before I got too big with Eliza and had to get up to pee three times a night. Suddenly conversations about sleep training pique my interest. I hear other Mom's tales of moving into the living room and I salivate with envy. A room seperate from my baby. I love her and love waking up to look at her in the morning, but oh how a room of my own seems like cloud. This past week I had the opportunity at my mother's to put her in a room downstairs and sleep upstairs. But every night, I couldn't do it afraid of not hearing her, afraid she'd wake up in this room she didn't really recognize and wonder where I'd gone.
In ten days Eliza will be eight months old. She's so happy now, loves the swings at the park, giggles uncontrollable when I chew on her chubby legs and sits forward in her stroller, excited to take in the world. Every day with her feels like a newsreel of great moments worth recording. And yet, I'm exhausted, frazzled, desperate for sleep and somehow unable to do so. One mother described this as the greatest endurance test she'd ever taken. Loving my daughter, that's the easy part. But when does the sleep thing, when does that end?
posted by Litgirl Mama at 12:13 AM
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