DON'T WAKE THE BABY.....

Years ago I read an article in a magazine. Or maybe Readers Digest, I'm not sure. It was kind of a haunting story, but relatable too and I never forgot it.

Come along on my journey as I put my own spin on one of life's many experiences.

As a young mother I suffered through some hellish sleepless nights, and so did Jamie. Our first baby was a notoriously poor sleeper; I clocked her one time sleeping 20 minutes in 24 hours, it was awful. You can't make that up.

And we tried everything.

Letting her cry it out? After about 60 seconds, one of us broke and we'd pick her up.

A warm, soothing bath before bedtime? Oh for god's sake. For her or for us??

Rocking and snuggling? Well of course!

It seemed the only way she'd sleep even a little was in our bed, between us. And we loved her so much, we welcomed the arrangement.

Now, who was more spoiled?

Now, admittedly our first experience at parenting was a little different from most, with Momma and my three younger brothers in the house, not an ideal situation. And in all fairness, they probably didn't get much sleep either.

We had a lot of challenges and I know that lots of people out there can sympathize. But at some point, you have to get some rest. We get plenty now, but that was a lifetime in the future for us, we never thought we'd survive.

But survive it we did, and by the time Jaime Lee started to sleep a bit, we were already pregnant with Baby #2. I know, I know............don't say it. But those four children were so worth it.

Back to the story that I remember and didn't make up, bear with me.

I'm quite dramatic, you know.

A young first time Mom, who I'll name Darlene, was at her wits end. Her baby was beautiful and perfectly healthy in every way as her doctor repeatedly assured her. She just wasn't a sleeper. He said he had one at home just like her. And as I read the story, I drew so many parallels with this mother.

*At some point, all children sleep.

*You're not doing anything wrong.

*Ask for help, it's nothing to be ashamed of.

I had heard it all, done it all, as I read this story. Every evening as Darlene bathed her baby, nursed her, put her down, the thought went through her mind, will it be tonight? Will we get a couple of hours out of it?

She made the predictable consistent nightly sessions as easy as possible. A dim night light on, diapers at the ready, the rocking chair all gassed up and ready to go.

She always sent her already dozing husband to bed early, as someone had to work, and 6:00 a.m. comes way too quick.

He always took his turn on weekends, but really, what new mother sleeps through a screaming baby all night long? Not Darlene, and not Nova either, at the time. Of course as life goes on, we soon realized that the problem was never the baby, it was us as nervous new parents, although I couldn't speak for Darlene or anyone else.

But one fine morning, everything changed. Because let's face it, nothing ever really stays the same forever.

Darlene lay still in her bed, opened her eyes and felt somewhat confused. The sun was shining in the bedroom window. She reached behind her, but her husband was already up and gone to work, as she expected.

But something was wrong. Well, maybe not wrong. But not right either. What was it? It was a bright morning, and she wondered absently what time it was. Was she awake? Or was she dreaming? Or somewhere between the two?

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

And then it struck her.........oh my god, the baby wasn't crying.

It must be a dream. Every morning for months a loud, insistent snuffling and crying was Darlene's alarm clock. Never on time. Just always the same. There were mornings when she started crying too, it seemed like that was something she just couldn't help. She would just drag herself out of her warm bed and automatically go to the source of the screaming and pick up her crying baby. Sit in the rocking chair and nurse the little one. The peacefulness of a contented baby nursing never lasted long, so she tried to enjoy these fleeting moments.

Because they wouldn't last forever.

But this morning was different. When Darlene realized that the baby wasn't crying, she strained her ears for some sound. Nothing. She was almost feeling disoriented. And then she made a decision. It was almost too hopeful to think the baby had slept through the night. Maybe she had.

But maybe something had happened, and she hadn't.

In either event, Darlene decided to do something she hadn't done for months. If something had happened to the baby, there was nothing she could do about it now. So she decided to just go downstairs, make coffee, and smoke a guilty cigarette. In silence. In peace. And then she could deal with whatever was ahead. (kind of like Scarlet O'Hara, who was famously quoted in Gone With The Wind as saying, "Tomorrow is another day........")

And before anyone judges Darlene's behaviour, I totally get it. Her nerves would have been stretched tighter than J.J.'s fiddle strings from months of sleep deprivation and fatigue and poor diet. We're only human. She was doing the best she could, but constantly feeling ill equipped to handle motherhood. Who among us hasn't felt that way once or twice? Sometimes making a meal and making time for a shower and a decent shampoo was just too much.

As she came to the landing halfway down the stairs, a warm ray of sun from the little porthole window struck her face. It seemed oddly out of sync, as did everything else today. She fully expected to wake up from this dream. By the time she was in her cozy kitchen, somehow she started noticing things. The sunlight was just brightening things up. The coffee, gurgling through the coffeemaker, smelled just delicious and Darlene realized she felt hungry. Very hungry. She got the mug ready, poured in a little cream, and fetched a small ashtray that she kept hidden, as she didn't want anyone to know she took a drag now and then.

She sat at the end of the table, inhaled the cigarette deeply, followed it with a satisfying pull on the coffee cup and just closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. It had been a while since she felt this relaxed, and she could hear the comforting tick-tock of the little clock over the sink. The fragrant smoke from the cigarette was a halo around her head. She crossed her ankles under the table and reached for the folded up newspaper. When was the last time she bothered? She checked the front page for the date, and thought, where has the time gone? Her husband liked to have a look at it, but by the time he got home, ate, showered, and headed upstairs for a couple of hours sleep, a newspaper was far from his mind, and Darlene rarely looked at it. But this morning, she thought, I could use the distraction. She popped a slice of whole grain bread into the toaster to go with the coffee. Oh my, it smelled good.

"Just one more puff, and I'll finish the coffee and toast and then I'll go upstairs."

In that order.

So she did, not knowing what lay ahead.

As she went up the last few steps and steadied herself on the newel post, she took a deep breath and walked quietly into the baby's room not sure what to expect. OH MY GOD.

In the crib, laying on her back playing with her toes was a wide awake baby. Then she saw her mother, and her face just switched gears and she gave her mom the biggest smile she'd ever seen. And she cooed. And kicked her little pink bare feet. And reached up her arms to be picked up.

And Darlene stood rooted to the spot, kind of stunned. She hadn't known what to expect, and this behaviour was unexpected indeed. This was like a different baby. Sweet and happy. Not screaming and bawling.

She felt guilty for having gone downstairs without checking on the baby first, but she'd been at her breaking point. And with just those first precious moments of the morning, she felt her strength come back. She'd had a night's sleep. She felt she could handle anything. The baby was beautiful and healthy and even if it was just for today, Darlene felt up to the task now. The sleepless nights and self-doubt couldn't last forever, and if God was good, the worst was behind her.

She was back in control. She couldn't wait for Daddy to come home and meet this pleasant little girl. And she'd tell him about her experience, not at all sure she was proud of it, but that quiet time had given her strength and courage.

Now, I assume they all lived happily ever after, I don't remember every little detail of the story, but I sure can relate.

How well I can remember my own desperation and despair in the early days, but nothing lasts forever.

And we all survived.