Going to bed

Lately I've been having trouble going to bed. I find myself staying up late, even when Kathleen is settled. I'd say that I'm just enjoying the time to myself, except I'm not really. I'm not reading or writing or working on the projects that I look at all day unable to begin. I'm not doing something I care about or want to do. Instead I'm reading blogs online, searching randomly, endlessly, playing games online, mindlessly.

This is what I did for months in early 2008, because I couldn't go to bed, because as my mind and body began to shut down for the night, I let my guard down and the pain that I had pushed away just enough to be able to breathe through the course of the day came in and crushed me. I cried hard, though usually not too long. So I dreaded going to bed. Each night I'd put it off, midnight, 1, 3 . . ., but no matter when I went, grief still hit me hard.

It isn't the sadness that hits me when I turn out the light now, but I'm not sure what it is. I'm a bit restless at night, unable to settle, not really able to focus, and it reminds me of sitting in the darkness, searching, searching, searching for somebody like me. Somebody who understood why I was sitting here exhausted unable to go to bed.

So here I am again writing online, peeking to see if it's my turn in my Scrabble game, looking to see if any of my favorite blogs have been updated . . . and waiting to see what's going on, what it is that's nagging me and keeping me from wanting to shut down.

While You Were(n't) Sleeping

For a couple of weeks, Kathleen has not been sleeping well. I was averaging about 3 hours of sleep a night and just barely getting through the day. One day, I thought, "This is hell," but I quickly corrected myself, because it wasn't at all. I've been to hell. This was just hard and exhausting, but I knew it would end and I would sometime get more sleep and in the mean time I had a warm little body on my lap or next to me in bed. A couple of nights of five hours of sleep has made all the difference.

So while we weren't sleeping, I was getting behind in laundry and dishes and work and reading, so I just realized that Amy at Surviving the Day nominated me for the Sisterhood Award. I started reading Amy's blog because her blog name caught my eye . . . some days that's what it is, survival.

The rules* are to pick to blogs with great attitude and/or gratitude. Here are my 10 (and I know some have been nominated before:

• The Happy Sad Mama
  
• Growing Inside
  
• Little Birdie Little Bunny
  
• Tuesday's Hope
  
• Ezra's Space
  
• Building Heavenly Bridges
  
• A Fifth Season
  
• I Lost a World
  
• Flotsam
  
• Missing Eliana

I started to explain why I picked each one, but sleep is still a limited commodity around here, and it's taken me two days to get this far. Suffice it to say I'm grateful to have a window into the world of these other loss mamas and their sweet babies. They've given me things to think about and made this journey less lonely.


* The rules:

• Put the logo on your blog or post.
• Nominate 10 blogs with great attitude and/or gratitude.
• Be sure to link to your nominees in your post.
• Let your nominees know they have received the award by leaving them a comment on their blog.
• Be sure to link this post to the person who nominated you for the award.

Sleepless

Kathleen has been pretty good at sleeping at night. She still wakes up a couple of time to eat, but she tends to go longer stretches at night. Usually she wakes up, we change her, I nurse her, and Brian or I give her a bottle. Then we settle her and put her back in the bassinet or she doesn't want to be put down and one of us lies down with her on our chest. It's not a bad system. I can't complain.

Last night, she slept for a few hours and woke up around 2 a.m. She nursed; she had her bottle; and she looked at me with her big eyes, wide awake. She wasn't fussy, though her mouth kept going. I tried feeding her more. Still wide awake, and her mouth was still going. She'd close her eyes and then pop them back open. I let her suck and suck and suck. We did another bottle at 4. She had a series of loud, satisfying burps, and I put her down a little after 5.

As I sat there in the semi-dark with her, I remembered my sleepless nights this time last year, my grief so raw. I was afraid to go to bed then. As my mind and body started to settle down, any protective measures I had put up to get me through the day came down and the pain that seemed intolerable intensified. I'd sob briefly hugging Henry's blanket and eventually sleep. Every night I dreaded bedtime and I tried to avoid it. I'd sit up for hours doing crossword puzzles or endlessly searching online for something to comfort or help me through. I'd go to bed in the wee hours and sleep late.

I remember talking to a friend in March. It was almost 11 a.m., and I had just gotten up. "Lucky," she said. She had a new baby at home and had been up with him. Really? I thought. Lucky? Do you want my kind of luck? I wish I had a reason to get out of bed before 11. I wish I was up all night because somebody needed me.

I knew there might be a day when I had a new baby, when I had no sleep, and all I could think of was lying down and closing my eyes, but at that moment, I would have given anything to be up all night with a little one.

Now, with a new baby home, I do appreciate sleep. But while there are times I'm exhausted, I know it could be worse. Last night, I longed to get back into bed. I yearned to lie down and get some rest. But there was a warm little body in my lap. For a time there were big eyes staring up at my, there were soft tugs at my breast, and then there was a snuggly, sleepy little girl, eyes closed, face peaceful, so worth staying up for. I'm tired this morning, but I really can't complain. No, I can't complain at all.