It’s Friday night and I’m sitting here writing this at gone 10pm, wrinkled from hiding in the bath at my absolute whits end after seven years of no sleep.
Tonight really has pushed me to my limits and after three hours or pleading, bribery, shouting and crying I really am lost at what to do.
The oldest three weren’t bad sleepers. I had a few problems over the years with my eldest but all in all bedtimes were pretty much the same routine of bath, book, bed and there they stayed.
Then along came my fourth. He didn’t really get off to a good start as he suffered terribly with food allergy related eczema that keep him awake at night. I felt terribly for him and night after night would be spent applying creams and trying to sooth him back to sleep. Breastfeeding was a huge comfort for him and for the first few years he spent each and every night in my bed on and off the boob to give both me and him some much needed rest.
Fast forward a little and the allergies were under control as was the eczema and I had said goodbye to our breast feeding journey but the sleep problems were well and truly still there and to be honest now at the age of seven nothing much has changed, in fact over the past year things have got worse and it is really taking its toll on me.
You name it I’ve tried it! We’ve gone through countless pillow sprays, special bedtime stories, meditation apps, the list really is endless. There may have been a little light relief every now and then and all this false hope would come flooding in and then bang – right back to square one.
I’ve sat tirelessly outside his bedroom in the hopes he will drift off to sleep, tried the ‘Super Nanny’ method of returning him every time he leaves his room, none of which have had any effect. He unfortunately inherited my stubborn pigheadedness and it is a standoff between us both and I have to say each and every night he wins.
When he does eventually decide he can’t take anymore and drifts off it’s not long before he is making his way into our bed, usually closely followed by his younger brother and here starts the next leg. Flying limbs in everyone’s face, the arguing over who is in who’s space and before you know it the alarm is going off and I am ready to face the day on a few broken hours sleep yet again.
I have to say that over the years I have grown accustom to the lack of sleep and seem to mange pretty well on this but I’m not so sure it’s the same for this little one and I worry what effect it is having on him in terms of his health and learning as it can’t be doing him any good.
For me the major problem is missing those few hours of time to myself before I hit the sack. A child that won’t go to bed coupled with the demands of two teenagers in the evening, mixed in with all the other admin of life that needs to get done leaves a window of about 30 mins for me to switch off unless I want to push my bedtime back until about 2am.
I try to remind myself of the quote ‘motherhood – the days are long but the years are short’.
With grandchildren of my own already I know this too well but I can’t help but feel if my days were a little shorter those years would be they little bit more enjoyable!
