My Anti-Sleep Situation

Waking up is hard work, especially when you don’t really do much sleeping during the night.

Allow me to vent, and then…sip…coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Cheers! Do you cheers with coffee? Well if you do, careful not to spill, it’s hot.

Back to my anti-sleep situation: My night was interrupted at 11:00 p.m., 12:58 a.m., 2:14 a.m., 4:35 a.m., 5:00 a.m., and 6:43 a.m. Why? Because everyone sucks, that’s why. Here’s the problem in ascending order: Hudson has croup, Silas is growing molar or something, and Berlyn drank too much bedside water.

Hudson is a wreck, and deeply affected by the “man cold.” It’s kind of serious too. He produces this barking sound that feels like someone is scratching your inner ear with a tiny piece of tin foil wrapped around a toothpick every time he coughs, and after a fit of coughs, you’re a little sweaty because you’ve buried your head deep in a pile of couch pillows, and then you exclaim, “HUDSON! ARE YOU OKAY?”

And he hardly looks up from his iPad, and replies in the cutest raspy voice ever, “I’m a little good and a little bad.”

So Hudson’s super sick, but we’re handling it, and I think he’s starting to feel a tiny bit better, but last night he coughed so much that he threw up, that was the first 11:00 pm wake up for me. And it was the worst timing because I just went to bed, and I was all warm and cozy, then I heard crying, so I shot up and went to check on him. He was asleep by the time I got to his room, so instead of waking him up to change his sheets, I accessed the vomit, and realized it was mostly comprised of freshly swallowed apple juice mixed with water. I put a heavy blanket over the violation, and rolled him over, and then I washed my hands and went back to bed. DONE.

Next at 12:58, I heard Silas violently screaming. I got out of my bed again and went into his room, he was crying, “MA-MA-MA-MA!” He usually gets 9-11 hours of uninterrupted sleep at night, so this was a little out of the ordinary, instead of ignoring him, I nursed him, because I wanted him to sleep so that I can sleep. After that I peed, then went back to bed.

Okay, I thought. I finally I get to sleep. Good niiiighhttt….NOPE. 2:14 am, I hear Hudson again. Which is fine, because he’s so sick and I was worried about him anyway. I went into his room, which felt like a cold dark swamp because the humidifier was powered up to full-blast-Louisiana setting, and he threw up again. Thankfully he ate a total of nothing the day before, so it was just a bunch of stomach fluid and apple juice which surprising, isn’t that gross to clean up. It’s like baby urine or puppy drool: Cute and precious. So I had to change his sheets at 2 AM, and that’s super fun, and also I’m highly coordinated and have absolutely no problems with fitted sheets in the middle of the night. Except that’s a big fat lie, and Hudson heard his mommy say words he never knew existed.

So I cleaned him all up, and washed his sheets, then I peed again, and went back to bed.

UGH.

So then 4:35 happens, and this time it’s my 6-year-old, Berlyn who hasn’t woken up in the middle of the night since she was 3 months old. Really. That’s a true story. And there she was standing next to me while I was sleeping and she was quietly sobbing, “I peed in my bed.”

That girl has NEVER wet the bed. EVER. Never. Not ever. And last night out of all the nights in the world, she wets the bed. I went into her room to check it out, and the sheets weren’t even wet. Alright fine, there was a small quarter sized amount of pee, and she wouldn’t let me do the lazy-mom-towel-over-the-pee/vomit/what-have-you-trick (that I did just a few hours earlier with Hudson) she said it was gross. I shrugged my shoulders and began to rip the sheets off her bed and changed her bedding.

Anyone else need new sheets in the middle of the night?

Silas? Zoey? I’m getting good at this…

Twenty minutes later, I get back to bed, and try to sleep. But then Pat’s alarm goes off at 5:00 am and whhhaaaa! I want to cry. But I don’t, instead I ignore it, and soon I’m fast asleep again until 6:43 when I hear crying… again! I open my eyes, and see Hudson standing in front of me, naked, cry/coughing. He tells me, “I’m freezing!”

“Well, ya, you’re naked.” I feel his head. “And you have a fever. Let’s get some clothes on.”

There you go, that was my night last night. So If you see me, and I look like crap, please don’t judge me. I am wearing a bra and deodorant, and that’s the most that I am capable of today. And if I have a conversation with you and I’m not making any sense, humor me and smile. And then offer to take my children for 45 minutes so I can take a nap, please?

Thank you.

Welcome to One, Silas.

This week, November 10th to be exact, Silas turns one.

His turning one has haunted me all year. Memories that I’ve fought hard to erase will billow back in like a curtain in an open window. It’s fabric being sucked in and pulled out over and over again. Memories washing over me like scenes from an old movie. The action cuts into my thoughts, replaying dramatic moments.

Rewind, play. Rewind, play.

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Silas is one.

His heart is one, his hands are one. His voice and his soul and his brain are all one. I want to celebrate his life, but at the same time, his birthday is a reminder of his staggering birth story.

The blood, the panic, the fear, the trust, the sting of hearing his heart whoosh slowly over the ultrasound. The blackness, the dark, the sleep.

And then the awaking. A soft tap on my shoulder telling me it’s not over. My eyes opened, and I realized there was a birth, a life, a light, the most precious gift. He was inside a box filled with tissue and those foam peanuts. It was all in there to protect him and it was worth it. The newness, the tender sounds, the wires the beeps and fluids, the cautionary words from doctors, the nurses who held him, the tubes who fed him.

It was all worth it.

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Today I celebrate Silas’ life. Not the fear surrounding his birth, but the story of hope, the story of grace, the story of God and his sweet goodness to us.

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Welcome to one, Silas.

You are a fighter. You are so strong. May this strength carry you through your life, giving you pause when you need to stop, and flight when you need to fly.