By now, I have griped enough about Cary's inability to sleep past 6:30 in the mornings (6:30 is a good day!) and his newfound love of waking up at night, like a newborn, despite months of sleeping through the night blissfully.
It's irritating, no doubt, but what's interesting is how it starts to become something you get used to.
So this morning, I woke up at 6:17, and immediately strained to see if I heard him in the room, whimpering. I did not. Great, I said to myself, I can sleep a few extra minutes! I dozed off, I think, or at least lapsed into semi-sleep.
At 6:33, I sat up in bed again, straining to see if I heard him. Instead, I heard silence.
Hmm, I wondered. Is he OK?
Then I thought back to a little earlier that morning, around 3:30 a.m., when Dean woke up crying for Puppy. I lumbered into the boys' room, found Puppy, and Dean fell back on his pillow, sighed, and was probably asleep before I left the room. I remember thinking at the time that it was strange that Cary wasn't awake, as he didn't get the nickname Prince Lightsleeper for nothing. I peeked in Cary's crib, but decided at the last second not to touch him, for fear of waking a sleeping bear. (A Cary-bear, but a bear nonetheless.)
So this morning, at 6:33, my mind raced back to 3:30 a.m. When I peeked in on Cary, was he breathing?? Could I even really see him in the dark?? Why didn't he wake up when Dean did? Why didn't I reach in his crib to pull his little blanket up, and feel his body move?
I lay there, as the morning light was starting to pour in through the slats of the blinds in our bedroom, and watched the clock.
6:34. 6:35. 6:36.
What is going on in there?? Why isn't that baby awake?????
My mind began to play tricks on me. I thought awful things that I will not repeat here, because they're just too awful to even think about, much less put out into the blogosphere.
I stared at Lester's peacefully sleeping back. Should I wake him up? Something must be wrong! I gave a quick, silent prayer. I breathed in and out, slowly. I tried to think of other things, like what I was going to wear to work, and if my dentist appointment was at 4 or 4:30 this afternoon.
I shifted in the bed and hugged my baby bump.
Finally, at 6:43, I heard him -- my baby!! -- making a crying noise that is normally hysterical to me, because it is his "fake" crying noise, the one he does when he sees a baby in a book: "Waah, waah," he was saying, without much heart, I might add. "Waah, waah."
I bounded out of bed, ran to his room and scooped him up and kissed him! Little sleepy stinker!
Never have I been so glad to hear his cry, fake or otherwise.
I think it is so funny that I can't sleep when my child is constantly waking up ... and I can't sleep when he doesn't wake up!
Oh, the ironies, the agonies, the pure, unmatched joys of being a Mom.
4 comments:
I have absolutely done this. In fact, I think it was just last weekend that I talked myself into a tizzy over the FOUR-YEAR-OLD. Hadn't heard from him after 8:30 which is over an hour past the latest of his times.
And then have the arguments about did I check sufficiently before, the last time I was there? And then arguing between running and checking and waiting. And which one of these makes us sane.
When Chiron went into the hospital a couple months ago, he got to skip triage by pretending to be unresponsive. I had a moment of absolute panic and fear where I reached down to feel that he did have a respiratory rate. Terrifying.
I should check the life expectancy stats and see whether kids increase them (enriching life, making us care for ourselves better, keeping more active) or decrease them (mainly through stress and using up years of our life in moments).
HA! Exactly!
And you know I wanted to go in and check on him, but I kept thinking, if he is just sleeping soundly, I will KICK myself! Meanwhile, I'm tossing and turning. Ugh. Why can't we just capitalize on the extra Zzzzz's? So not fair!
I always think it'll get better when they're older and my Mom assures me it will -- for a little while. Then she says it'll get worse once they're able to leave the house and stay out till all hours. She is the mother of 5 kids and she said she was never able to sleep soundly unless all five of the kids were sleeping, safe, in their beds. So, we have that to look forward to, as well. Yay!
I completely understand where you are coming from. On more than one occasion I have gotten from my bed in the morning, tiptoed upstairs to check on my girls when they have not come down to greet me at their usual time.
My mind usually goes to kidnapping. For some reason the girls being kidnapped from their bed is always my first fear. It is palpable. I commend you for not getting out of your bed. I have yet to be that strong. The thought of some unknown pervert scaling the side of my house and entering my girls bedroom reaching over one to kidnap the other drives me up those stairs every time.
And each time I find one of two scenarios.
1. Both girls sleeping peacefully and I sneak back to my room relieved.
2. One or both of them awake quietly watching television in their room. At which time they spot me and we all travel downstairs with me thinking your paranoia has cut short your quite time.
But as crazy as this world is that we live in, I am always grateful that my babies are safe and at home with me.
Alex is an early riser. Always was, still is. I still do the same thing. This morning it was 7:11 and I was like WHERE IS ALEX? Did he die????
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