Thursday, August 04, 2005

I'm fortunate

I don’t sleep well. I can’t even remember the last time I slept through the night. I don’t remember when it started – when the luxury of sleeping so soundly that I would awaken startled by my alarm – ended. I think I’ll blame Harry. He started pushing on my bladder somewhere around 4 months along. I remember waking at least twice a night near the end. Someone told me that it was just the beginning. That it was God’s way of getting me ready for his presence. What? I had NO idea what she was talking about until he came. This boy did not sleep through the night until he was TWO and a HALF years old. Now that I lay it out like that, I definitely blame Harrison.

Always a light sleeper, I can hear the slightest noises while I’m asleep. Back in Green Bay, in my monstrous old Victorian (which is still for sale by the way if anyone is interested in a BEAUTIFUL investment property), Harrison slept in the next room, but it was quite a ways down the hall. My hearing became bionic and I could hear him breathing. Every sigh, toss or hiccup would kick in my super power hearing to the highest level until he settled down. We used baby monitors for about a week until I realized that they were too loud. I could hear too much.

Insomnia is now what I call my incomplete, unsettled sleeping patterns. If there is ANYTHING at all on my mind, I will only think about it at night. It’s just the rule. Through my work, I’ve studied the brain a bit. I know that heavy duty stuff goes on while you are sleeping. I just wish I had a switch that I could turn off when I needed to. During finals in grad school, I would have turned it on to continue memorizing all the DSM-IVR crap I needed to remember for my tests. When I get to bed later than I want to, and I need to get up early to run and get the kids off to preschool early, I would like to turn it off.

Last night was unique. I didn’t lay awake for two – four hours thinking about every little thing that needs to be done in my life at this exact moment. No, I just woke up every hour – about 8 minutes past the hour – to look at my clock. I would then roll over and miraculously fall back asleep – that is until 4:08 am. That’s when I had to pee and my schedule hooked up with Ella’s. She pranced out of her room, “Mommy, I have to pee.”
This was good and bad at the same time. She still wears Pull-Ups at night and this was the first time she has woken up to pee. That’s good. I was a little concerned, though, that she wouldn’t fall back asleep, but she did. I, however, did not fall asleep until about 5:14 am and my alarm went off at 5:40. To make things worse, I had a horrible dream that luckily was interrupted by the alarm. I dreamed that Harrison got his face too close to the grill and his hair or cheek caught on fire. I woke up before I had a chance to get to him. It was awful.

Last night I spent some time talking to a neighbor about the awful tragedy that has transcended on our neighborhood. Four boy scouts were injured, and one killed, in a lightening strike on their cabin at camp. Beth recounts the events extremely well. As I sit here and “complain” about my inconsistent sleep, my house drama in Wisconsin, or the fact that I’m still not satisfied with my weight, I shudder to think about the pain the dead boy’s parents are experiencing.

Events like this remind me to slow down. To cherish what I do have and to stop wishing for things I don’t.

No comments: