Sleep

I called Peter this morning at 6am. He has been out of town for the week, in Florida for a conference. It was 7am his time and he was on the bus heading to the airport to come back home. It has been a long week. Charlotte started preschool this week and I had to get her there at 8am Monday through Thursday. I was blessed to have many friends throughout the week come watch the boys while I dropped her off in the morning and picked her up before lunch. This was a lifesaver. The hardest part of this week has been that I haven't gotten more than 2-2 1/2 hours of sleep in a stretch on any given night. Between Matthew waking up two to three times a night and Cy also waking up in between the times Matthew wakes up to eat, I get maybe two hours at a time before I'm up again either feeding, changing, or putting a reluctant Cy back to bed. You may ask, is he waking up from night terrors, or scared or crying? Um, no. He wakes up, sits in the doorway with his blankie and stuffed animal and starts growling. Growling, you ask? Yes, "roarrrr". Growling. Fun times. I've gone back and forth between how or if I should punish him and how to handle this situation and I really have no answer. But, when it's the third time I've gotten up in one night and my nights are starting to look just like my days, I start to lose it. I've come to understand why sleep deprivation is a key tool in military interrogation. You get to the point where you would do literally anything to get some sleep. I go to sleep earlier, say 9pm, and lay down to the thought of how long will I get before Matthew wakes up. Maybe I'll get two hours, maybe three or four if I'm lucky. I fall into a deep sleep and wake to crying at 10:20am. Less than two hours. I stumble to his room, pick him up and hold him close, sit down, latch him on and in less than five minutes I'm dreaming. I'm sitting up, nursing my baby, and dreaming. He pulls off, I wake up and switch sides. He finishes, I burp him, lay him back down - praise the Lord! he goes right back to sleep after I nurse him - and stumble back to bed at 10:45pm. I lay my head down thinking, four hours, I should have four hours now. 12:30am (less than two hours later) I get startled awake by a sound in the hall...."roarrrrrr". Yes, Cy has emerged into the hallway. I climb out of bed, tell him to get back in bed, he hesitates, I tell him a "bit more firmly", warn him with a night in the pack n' play if he doesn't stay in bed, tuck him back in, tell him I love him, and kiss him goodnight, again. 12:45am I'm back in bed thinking, okay, it was four hours, now only two, maybe three if I'm lucky. I can do three. I can do tomorrow if I only get three more hours of sleep. 2am (a little over an hour later) Matthew wakes up again, wants to eat. Growth spurt? Teething? Who knows. All I know is I prayed all through this pregnancy, from the time I knew I was pregnant, for a baby that would sleep well, through the night, early on. The same thing I've prayed every night since. Who knows why God answers some prayers and not others, but this one hasn't been touched. At least not in the way of my interests. I go to his room again, same drill. I'm so tired now that my arms and legs are getting "antsy" and very restless. I can't seem to take sitting there too much longer. I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin, but Matthew isn't done yet and seems to be eating for much longer than I think I can handle. I love nursing him and don't even mind doing it now, but my body is about to jump out of itself. He's starting to slow down and I can barely sit there any longer from total exhaustion and my legs so incredibly restless, so I pull him off just a tad early and he is just fine, snuggling into my shoulder after I stand up and then I gently put him back into bed to sleep. I lay back down, melt into my pillow, and am rouse again around 2:45am by Matthew. I go in and can smell his dirty diaper. I get him changed, sing him back to sleep, and lay my head back down on my pillow by 3am. Two hours pass, which feel like two minutes and I hear roaring in the hallway again. 5am and Cy is back out of bed. I get out of bed, do the drill again, put him back in, and pray for just two more hours. Just two hours of sleep, please. 5:30am and I hear Matthew. He's screaming. I try to let him cry it out. I want him to make it to his 7am feeding because if not, the whole day's schedule is thrown off and things get even crazier. It's 5:45am and I give in after hearing him off and on for the past half hour. I go in and try to feed him. He's not hungry. He must be teething. I bring him to bed with me, hoping he might sleep on me for another hour. He's up and down, restless, snuggles for ten minutes, then pops his head up and squawks. At 6am I try to put him back in bed after rocking and a song. He goes back down, only to have both the kids up at 7am and popping in and out of their room. Shortly after I hear Matthew wake for his 7am feeding. We're up. We're all up. Sometimes I pray for daylight to come so I don't have to endure any more of the night. It's that bad. I called Peter this morning at  6am crying and asking him to pray for me. I told him I'm angry with God. I told him I've had enough of this sleep sanctification. I told him I'm going to be tempted to seriously injure the next person who tells me they hope I "sleep well". Just those words, "sleep well", make me tears well up in my eyes. Don't tell someone who hasn't slept in over five months, plus the nine prior when pregnant, to sleep well. They know you mean well, they really do. But, if you know what's good for yourself, tell them you love them. Tell them you're sorry it's been so hard. Tell them you'll be over at 2pm to watch the kids so she can nap. But, please don't tell them to sleep well or you hope they have a good night's sleep. It's good to hope, hope is a good thing, and keep hoping for them, but don't tell them about it, because all they can think about is all the sleep they have NOT gotten, and that for them, it feels like there is no hope in sight. That's all I really do want, is a little hope. I just need one night, one single night of maybe a five hour stretch of sleep, to give me something to hang onto. Something to keep me going and give me hope that this stage will indeed end. I keep looking forward to a few years down the road when hopefully Cy won't be twelve years old growling in the hallway at 12am or 2am or 5am. I know when I talk to parents of older kids that they say there's always something that keeps you up, either you're waiting for them to come home after a date or worried about their first sleepover away from home, etc. But, really? This kind of sleep deprivation? I don't believe it. Or at least I just can't. I can't believe this kind of insanity will continue on for the rest of my life, and still be able to make it through this current challenge. This is hard. This is really really hard. Peter told me he loves me and he's sorry its been so hard on me and that he's been praying for me night and day, and and that he'll be home soon. Those were the words I wanted to hear. I don't know how single moms do it. I'm so grateful for a husband who loves me, is here for me, and helps me through my day. It's amazing how much help it is just for someone to hold the baby at 5:30pm when I'm making dinner. Or another person to keep an eye on the kids when I'm making everyone breakfast. Or another disciplinarian to sort through the game plan with and to help be my tag team. I recently read a blog that brought tears to  my eyes because I could relate to it so well. It wasn't the exact situation I'm going through but it hit on so many of the same key aspects of it. It was on the lie that God won't give you more than you can handle (lemmonythings.wordpress.com). She reminded me of God's encouragement in Scripture about how to handle life when you are indeed pulled under by so much more than you can handle. When you're gasping for air, struggling under so much pressure weighed down on top of you. What does our Lord say? He tells us, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30. So, it appears I've gotten it all wrong. I'm seeking my bed for sleep. Seeking four or five or even three hours of sleep for my sanity. I am to seek HIM. HE will give me rest for my SOUL. Not my body, or my mind, but my soul. The very place where I need him most. Where I crave him to dwell. Where sanity of body, mind and spirit rests. So, I press on. I lean on him and his promises. I trust he will get me through. I am no longer mad at him for not answering my prayers. I seek his forgiveness for not trusting him. For not believing in his promises. The truth is he loves me more than I could ever imagine. The truth is that he knows my struggle and he feels my pain and he would end it in an instant if he knew it would help me become more sanctified and him to be glorified. The truth is that it is through my pain and struggle and sleeplessness that I need him most, see him best, and learn more about him. I NEED this struggle to have my best prayers answered. Prayers for humility and patience and sanctification. Our pastor (my husband) asked last week in church what we would say to answer His question, "What do you want me to do?" Mark 10:36 and 51. When I sat there in church, my first response was, "give me sleep", of course. But then I thought more. Sleep would be the answer if I were James or John. But what if I were Bartimaeus? I dug a bit deeper and changed my answer. What do you want me to do for you? My answer? Lord, draw me closer to you. Help me to know you better. So, why doesn't he answer my prayers for sleep? He longs to answer the deeper, more meaningful prayer of my heart. To draw nearer to him. To know him better. So, I don't believe I will pray for sleep any longer. The only prayer on my heart is to know him more, to be pulled closer to his side, to fall more deeply in love with our Savior. If sleep comes, I will praise him to be sure, but I believe my heart, my mind, my soul needs so much more than sleep. It needs my Savior.