Posts Tagged "sleep deprivation"
Saying no, saying yes, and other stories
There’s not been much sleep in these parts lately. Have I mentioned that? You know, that I’m tired? No? Well, not for at least ten minutes anyway. Yes. Tired.
I have learnt that my ability to perceive myself as a good mother is directly proportionate to the amount of sleep I’m getting. Probably because my ability to BE a good mother is directly proportionate to the amount of sleep I’m getting. So, on both counts, I’ve been pretty crap this week.
Three or four hours of sleep a night and long days breeds a particularly snappy, shouty, emotionally fragile kind of mummy that neither me nor Kai are particularly keen on, and there has been a lot of snapping and shouting this week. Added to this, both of us have had to adjust to a new way of being around each other in the last few months. It’s just us now, you see, there’s no one else to help ease the tension. I am having to find ways of staying sane when your main source of company, and for long, solitary days and nights at a time, is two and half, and Kai is having to learn that I can’t provide the same focused attention available to him at the weekends, when he has an army playmates in the form of his Dad and family to help keep him occupied.
All of this is making for some particularly fraught weeks at the moment: lots of fallings-out, and the need for making-back-up-again. Good job we love each other, hey?
Motherhood has never come particularly naturally to me. I’m not that well suited to it, needing quiet and having a particularly fundamental need for my own space and to devote time and energy to my own projects and ideas. I have a tolerance level of about three seconds when it comes to the kind of involved, repetitive play that toddlers so enjoy, and Kai has especially intense needs in that department, being a child that never sits still, needing focused concentration to communicate with him and craving stimulation as desperately as I crave the peace to sit and snooze or read. I find I end up saying ‘no’ a lot: “no Kai, that’s enough now”, “no Kai, you’ll have to wait”, “no Kai, mummy’s busy”. We both end up frustrated and fraught, and I end up feeling guilty. It seems like he has the most fun when he’s away from me at the moment. I feel like dull mum, paling in comparison to the excitement and energy he gets from everyone else in his life. I’m not always sure what I’m really giving him most days, aside from fulfilling his basic needs.
But, BUT!
We’re getting there, on the good days at least, we really are. I’m learning to give a bit more, and Kai’s learning to take a bit less and somewhere in the middle we’re starting to find a better balance. I’m a great believer that it’s important for children to learn to play on their own, and NOT need an adult to direct them or play with them the whole time – it gives their imaginations a chance to be really unleashed without adult constraints. When I’ve had enough sleep to think about it properly, I realise that my ‘no’s don’t always have to be a source of guilt – I can view them as something really positive. And I’m learning to include him more – we’re becoming a little team, me and Kai. We clean together and cook together and wash up together and sort laundry together. When I have errands to run, we make it an adventure. Kai helps remember what we have to buy, where we’re going, and we don’t rush home, spending time dawdling along the pavement seeing what we can see.
What I’m learning is that saying no is okay, as long as they’re are plenty of ‘yes’s too. After a morning of ‘no’s after a long night of little sleep, I’m really trying to set aside some time to say “what do you want to do Kai?” and answering “YES!”. I’m finding that even if I’ve said no a hundred other times that day, it’s the yes’s that define what kind of day we have, even if it’s just the one. It’s giving us, in between the frustration and the fallings out, some real gems of time together.
Every day this week when I’ve asked him what he wants to do he’s signed the same sign: PAINTING! And so that’s what we’ve done. Lots and lots of it. I know I tend to harp on a bit about Kai and his art work, so forgive me my indulgence again. I guess when you have a child where so much is focused around what he’s NOT doing, it becomes extra-important to celebrate the things he DOES do. And this is something that makes Kai special in my eyes just now, not because of any particular extraordinary skill, (although I think for two and half he’s got quite an eye on him), but because it’s something that he enjoys so much, and which gives me so much joy to watch.
This week we’ve been using objects around the house to copy in our paintings, toys mostly, and he’s loved it. We talk about what colours things are, what shape, we mix our paints, I watch Kai daub and splat and dot, and for half an hour I get to feel like maybe I’m doing something right for once.
So here’s Kai’s painting of his toy Noah’s Ark, done all by himself while I did my knitting and we talked about what he was doing. I’m not a believer in the religious meaning, but we like stories, me and Kai, especially ones with animals in, and when you get to a paint a rainbow, and conjour up all the hope and light that that brings with it, well, I think it was just about perfect for us yesterday.
(P.S. The pants were clean, promise – had fallen out the laundry basket. Failed to spot them till after I’d saved the photo. Oh well, cheap thrill for you there. You’re welcome.)
Read MoreMake friends, make friends, never ever break friends
I am curled in a ball on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, my face turned away from you, my eyes tight shut against the glare of the artificial light of our early morning.
Vague sounds of the television and your quiet play and chatter filter through but don’t penetrate past the armour I have so carefully applied this morning. You are just noise to me. I wish you weren’t here.
I wish I wasn’t here.
I feel bruised. My body pinched, pulled, rearranged. A night of being your bed, comforter, punching bag, drinks dispenser, toy, as you worked through your rage and despair and frustration and all of the other things that seem to plague your nights. I wonder at what point last night did I finally shut down? At what point did I stop hearing the crying and just switch off to the writhing, grasping, angry little body in my arms. At what point did you stop being my baby and become something I had to endure? It was before exhaustion took you, finally, that much I know. Long before. Your stamina long eclipsing mine. My head hitting the pillow numb and empty.
I feel nothing now. My body moving on auto-pilot as I was woken from a sleep only just begun. I am cold, my skin prickling, as if the emotional drainage of the night has taken all my body heat with it. I shake, I shiver, wrapped in my cocoon and in darkness.
And yet even now, in my dark place, the mother synapses fire again. Ears on alert for sounds of distress and need. I hate that the instinct is so strong, that even when I want to disengage it holds me. Even now blissful nothingness is beyond my grasp, however much I wish for it, as anger burns hot in my chest. Dull but there, keeping me from icing up completely. I suppose I should be grateful for it. Grateful for feeling something. Because what kind of mother feels nothing?
Wrapped in shadow I am concious of time passing. All too soon the sounds of contented occupation begin to morph to sighs and little murmurs of annoyance. It is inevitable.
And then.
Movement. A shuffle. Warm fingers feeling there way beneath my covers to find my face, probing but gentle, searching for a connection and a response.
“Mama”
I am defrosting. The guilt is creeping back now. A familiar friend. Guilt that I seem unable to perform such a basic a function as enduring your need for me. Guilt at my weakness, at my selfishness, at my inadequate limits. Guilt that I am not enough, never enough for you. Guilt that I could ever wish you far away.
Turning, I pull you up and under, your body settling into my shape. I cannot yet look at you but your eager grin hovers an inch from my face in the half-light, your breath heavy and sweet. You wriggle your way through my defences, seeking out my bruises and my hurts with gentle hands, your fingers pushing their way through my hair to stroke and sooth and pat: movements learnt from being their recipient so many times.
You lie still for only a moment, but it is long enough for me to feel a rush of love so strong and deep it takes my breath, releasing in one low, shaking sob, that makes my body move and throw off the cover to let in the bright light of the dawn, here at last.
And I hold you close to me, breathing in your smell and your warmth and your life as the long night drips off me, and you begin to chatter with your nonsense words, telling me of your plans, about the red car that just drove past and that the dog from next door is awake and barking hello, and how you’d really like some breakfast please.
I take your hands in mine and plant a kiss on each small palm and look up at you to smile. Breakfast. Yes.
Read MoreMood Swings
I’m a bit up and down at the moment. I’m not sure why.
Some of it is just me I think. I’ve always blown a bit hot and cold and never been very good at concealing my emotions. If I’m happy you could probably solve the world’s energy crisis by running a power lead off my manic energy. But if I’m upset, or pissed off? Man alive, are you going to know about it. The Hadron Collider holds nothing like my potential for causing an accidental Universal Apocalypse. Most days I like this, it makes life more interesting. It makes ME more interesting.
But lately I seem to have been even more temperamental, with the emphasis on mental that is. And what’s frustrating me is that my ‘ups’ are being far overshadowed by my ‘downs’, with the down days triggered by more and more meaningless, pathetic incidents. An unkind word, perhaps not even meant for me but taken that way, can leave me wallowing for hours. I am more and more easily hurt, offended, sensitive and buffeted by the energy and comments of other people.
Is it the no sleep thing? Is the months of sleep deprivation finally making a dent in my mental health? Things are better, yes, but one good night is offset by about ten bad and I’m still managing on about 4-5 hours a night, 6-7 on a really good night.
Or is it the writing? More and more I’m finding I need to open myself emotionally, not only to find the right words to express what I’m trying to say, but to help me perceive the world in a way that is interesting, evocative and engaging. And by ‘opening’ myself to that process I fall in love with it, care about it, obsess about it in a way I’m not sure is always healthy and leaves me vulnerable to feeling deflated and low in confidence.
Or is it, (and I hate this excuse but it’s a valid one), hormones. Kai is breastfeeding less, my prolactin levels have probably dropped through the floor, and other hormones seem to be reinstating their influence as evidenced by the visit of an old friend this week who has been absent since I fell pregnant (yes, that was a euphemism, to spare my male readers some embarrassment).
What ever it is, I don’t like it. I feel out of balance and out of control.
Would love to hear if anyone else struggles with this problem (although you men folk are excused from the last point). How do you balance yourself emotionally? What keeps you feeling sane?
Read MoreJust when I thought I was going to lose my mind…
Ten ways in which the Universe was kind to me today:
1. Not only did Kai only wake up ONCE last night, he slept in until, wait for it, 8am!!!!! I got up before him, got dressed, made a cuppa. It was quite possibly the best morning of my life.
2. All that sleep meant Kai was in a KILLER mood. We laughed, we nearly wee’d ourselves with excitement riding the bus, we only had a handful of minor meltdowns at Playgroup and Kai made friends with a small girl with pretty hair. Toast was eaten, toys were shared. It was legendary.
3. When we got home Kai sat happily and drunk half a cup of moo moo milk (as opposed to mama milk). This is only the second time I’ve got him to drink any with out screaming and throwing it at me. If you were in the Midlands area and heard a Ahhhh sound that would have been my boobs sighing with relief. We’re down to two feeds in 24 hours people! TWO!
4. In one of those adorable toddler moments, every sip of Kai’s milk was accompanied by a “mmmm!”, a lip smack and a big grin. I’ve been giving him milk everyday and encouraging him to drink it with lots of “yum yum” and “ooh delicious!” – looks like he’s cottoned on the fact that moo moo milk = gooooood.
5. After drinking said milk we read a story (about diggers obviously), we drew the curtains and Kai lay down in his cot and went to sleep. Just like that. That is the first nap time without tears in about a fortnight.
6. While Kai was asleep I made two cups of tea. I’m not sure who the other one was for but I drank them both. With biscuits. I may make two cups more often.
7. The powers-that-be have decided to dig up a car park in the town centre. That means DIGGERS people. Diggers for probably all this week. This afternoon Kai spent 20 ecstatic minutes watching those diggers, who happened to be driven by friendly digger men who were happy to flash their lights and spin the diggers round and drop things from high up to make a better crash all for my rapt little boy. We will be back.
8. Instead of screaming all the way home, Kai sang. Loudly. It made everyone we walked past smile – not frown and look alarmed at the thrashing hysterical toddler that has been the norm for the last week or two.
9. We got back and Kai SAT. And gave me kisses, and giggled at me talking to him in a funny voice, and played with his cars beautifully till his Dad got home. I remembered how much I love him and decided I might not run way to New Zealand after all.
10. Bed time went without a whimper. Kai chose his fire engine book, we sniggered at the instruction to “feel the Fireman’s hard helmet”, and then we said “Night Night” and he lay down and went to sleep. Again.
Thank you Universe. Now why can’t everyday be like this??!
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