Losing My Mind Over Lost Sleep

Let's talk about sleep. Or, more specifically, lack thereof. I think that it's generally understood that sleep deprivation is par for the course for parents, but one thing I suspect many people underestimate is the danger that severe sleep deprivation creates.

That's right, I said DANGER. [Insert "Home Alone" scream] I know, whaaat? For once, I am not being dramatic. Let me tell you a couple of stories.

For the first year of Ethan's (our firstborn) life he didn't sleep longer than two, maybe three hours. Ever. Not at night, not in the day, ever. He was high-strung, had a bit of GERD or acid reflux, loved to nurse and/or suck (and had given up the pacifier on his own, so I didn't have a substitute after 5-6 months), and did not want to sleep for very long. His naps were a whopping 30 to 45 minutes.

HELL. IT WAS HELL. Talk about the red-carpet welcome to motherhood.

Nate was going through some long-term, grueling training for his job for 9 of those 12 months,  so I didn't ever ask him to take over at night for me so I could get a bit more sleep. I mistakenly thought that his sleep was more important than mine because he was working full-time and I was only working part-time, and his job was significantly more stressful and dangerous than mine, so he needed to be in tip-top shape. 

Mmm hmm. Talk about first-time mom syndrome.

About two weeks before Ethan's first birthday, the sleep deprivation caught up to me, BIG time. I started experiencing these flashes of actual rage, rage, in the truest definition of the word, over the dumbest things. I'm actually, in spite of how it may appear on this blog, a pretty easy-going person and this was completely out of character. 

For example, Nate would say something in jest, and it would spark a fit of pure rage. I would feel a burning sensation blossom in my chest, spread up into my throat and face and down my arms. I would clamp my lips together to physically stop myself from screaming FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING MOTHER FUCKER! I FUCKING HATE YOU! and I'd clench my hands into fists to keep from smashing a wine bottle over his head. 

I laugh about it now, but back then, it was no joke. The feelings of rage and anger would only last for a minute or two, but in those moments, I was barely in control of myself. I felt violent and could hardly restrain myself from physically lashing out. It was very serious.

And it was distressing because: 

1. I don't actually hate him (most days, anyway, ha). 

2. He didn't even say anything that would justify that kind of reaction (not that much DOES justify that kind of reaction).

3. This wasn't who I am. 

4. I was feeling it towards Ethan.

That last one was the most distressing one of all. It is unacceptable to feel that kind of rage and violence towards a child, and that's when I knew that I had to figure out what the hell was causing me to have these episodes of rage, before I lost control and actually hurt somebody. It didn't take long for me to realize that I was so severely sleep-deprived that my body chemistry was critically off, my mind was slipping, my self-control was slipping, and it needed to stop. NOW.

Three days before Ethan's first birthday, I told Nate that I was done, Ethan was just going to have to cry it out (CIO). For the previous six months, I had tried everything, read tons of books on sleep and getting babies to sleep, employed all the methods, and Ethan was like, fuck you, mom. We're not sleeping. I had been resistant to the CIO method because it felt heartless and against my instincts to leave him screaming in his bed, but when I weighed leaving him screaming in his bed versus throwing him against a wall in a fit of rage, screaming in his bed won out.

I also looked at factors like:
1. He was no longer pooping at night, so I wasn't going to be leaving him lying in his own shit. 
2. He wasn't actually hungry; he was just comfort nursing and my milk was drying up, anyway. 
3. He was a year old, not an infant. 
4. He no longer had reflux and was off of his reflux medicine. 
5. Sleep is critical for his brain development, and he was missing out on hours of sleep every night. 
And probably some other things that I'm not remembering right now.

NOTE: I'm not advocating for this method; I'm just sharing what I eventually had to do and the processes that went into it, and it happened to be what worked for us. So leave the non-supportive, mom-shaming, high-horse comments off here. 

So that first night, we put him to bed and listened to him scream off and on for hours throughout the night. I almost got up and slept in the car. The second night, the same. 

The third night, the night before his birthday, he slept all night. Not a peep out of him. Yes, when I woke up in the morning after that third night and realized that he (and I) had slept all night, I actually felt a little panicked that he died in his sleep and that's why he didn't cry all night. Of course, he didn't - he simply figured out pretty quickly that mom wasn't coming in to save him and decided to get over it. And every night thereafter, he slept all night.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO BOTH OF US!

I know we were lucky that it only took two nights, but jesus, we needed that. Within a week of getting a full-ish night's sleep every night, those fits of rage went away completely.

People. I cannot impress upon you enough how critical sleep really is. We all want to be the best moms, but if it means that we're greatly sacrificing ourselves and risking our health, we're not necessarily doing the right thing, at least not in that area. We need to be healthy, too. Not only do we need to get decent sleep, but our kids do, too, and they also need to form healthy sleeping habits. 

Like I mentioned earlier, my biggest mistake was not standing up for myself and telling Nate, "Hey, I really need to get some sleep tonight. Can you just get up with him?" And that especially sucks because Nate is an involved, hands-on dad and I totally could have asked him to do that for me. Nor did I ask anybody else to help out.

When Ethan was about 15 months old, we were in the waiting room at the pediatrician's office. A woman who looked like death warmed over walked in with her approximately 18-month-old son. She went to the receptionist's desk, and told the approximately 20-year-old receptionist that she needed to talk to a doctor right now about why her son wasn't sleeping. 

The receptionist, naturally, asked if she had an appointment, and when the mom said no, the receptionist said that she would have to make one because they were booked solid, and she probably wouldn't be able to see anyone for a few days.

The mom broke down. I mean seriously broke down. She started sobbing and said that she couldn't wait a few more days; her son hasn't really slept his whole life and she was on the verge of losing her mind and she just needed him to sleep. The receptionist was like a deer in headlights, and kept saying that they didn't have any appointments and she was just going to have to wait. 

The mom kept saying that she couldn't wait, she's tried everything and he just won't sleep, she's going crazy, she just needs to talk to someone about a solution. She was crying so hard that she could barely talk, but the receptionist couldn't or wouldn't budge. 

I was absolutely shocked. Furious. I mean, what the fuck does it take for someone to realize that the person standing in front of them is clearly in need of help, like right now?

I was just about to walk over to the desk and tell the receptionist that the mom could have Ethan's appointment because a sleep-deprived mom is a very, very dangerous thing and clearly, this mom was losing her mind and could quite possibly be a danger to herself and/or her child, when something finally penetrated with the receptionist and she got a nurse to come talk to her. 

I was happy that they were finally doing something for the mom but still pissed that she had to press her case that much. Sure, she could have done things like recognized that she was in need of help way before reaching the breaking point and talked to her pediatrician well before then, but you know what? It isn't often that people realize just how deeply in trouble they are until they snap. 

It's hard to be in touch with yourself when your brain isn't functioning properly because of severe sleep deprivation. Combine that with the pressure that some moms place on themselves to be "perfect" moms, or the pressure that society and even friends and family can put on each other to be a "perfect" mom, or for us to think or be under the impression that we're shit parents if we don't love every fucking single second of parenthood, and you have a recipe for disaster.

I completely understand why that mom didn't ask for help until she snapped. I understand that it was probably hard for her to admit, not only to herself but to her family and doctors, that she was struggling. 

And I understand how it then could have been hard for her to ask for help, to admit that she couldn't do it all, or maybe she didn't have anybody that she could ask to help her.

And that really sucks. Moms, Dads, don't underestimate the power of sleep, and don't underestimate the dangerous effects of sleep deprivation. Do what you have to do to get some sleep. 
Ask for help. 
Work something out with a fellow parent friend if you can. 
Get a gym membership, put the kid in the daycare, then go out to your car and sleep for a couple of hours if you have to. 
Let the (older) baby cry. 
Talk to your doctor, just do something. 
Don't let it get to a dangerous point.

Also, be kind to yourself. You don't have to do it all, you don't have to be perfect, which you'll never be anyway because nobody is perfect. Give yourself a break. Give your kids a break by taking care of you. 

And if you have a friend or family member who you can see is struggling, offer them a hand. Don't watch them suffer, watch them trying to hold it together, and do nothing to help. We need to help each other out, support each other. I've been known to tell friends, and even people that I barely know, that if they need a nap, I'll come hold their newborn. Sure, it's partly out of selfishness because damn, I love babies, but it's also to help out because I understand how critical sleep deprivation is. I've been there. Don't let yourself get there.

One of my favorite pictures of Ethan - probably because he was SLEEPING.

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