A few ground rules before I get stuck in this week. If you’re one of those parents who gave birth to a unicorn who sleeps all night, in their own bed, 7-7 (sure)—then I urge you to give this story a miss. Because it’s not for you.
This story is for all the mums, dads and caregivers who are being violently woken from their slumber, two, three, four times a night with no reprieve. Because in case you missed it: toddlers, apparently, don’t sleep either.
Now I’ve written about sleep A LOT. My sleep, my son’s sleep, my daughter’s sleep, our collective lack of sleep… it’s almost enough to put you to sleep. But despite all the progress made—and a very honest acknowledgement that this week’s piece is intended to be a tad tongue in cheek in the sense that generally, we tend to be trending in the right direction—during more challenging periods of sleep deprivation, it can be difficult not to feel resentful for the exhaustion inflicted on you by such a tiny human.
If you’ve met my daughter Billie, you’ll already know she is a firecracker in every sense of the word. She came marching out of the womb to the beat of her own drum and has been rocking her independence every day (and night) since. At 18 months old, she already pushes the boundaries to breaking point and has no qualms about simply telling you to go away or sit down or come here… she’s bossy, bolshy and beyond hilarious in equal measure. And I LOVE her for it. In many ways I wish I could steal some of her confidence.
But at night, when her caterwauls echo down the hallway waking me once again from a sleep I so desperately need, I quite frankly would like to put her in the bin. For the most part, I’ve always maintained that she has been a ‘better’ sleeper than my son. And at some ages and stages that has been the truth. But lately, things have felt a little unhinged.
It goes a little like this. For several consecutive nights, she will lull us into a false sense of security (and slumber) by cosplaying the perfect child. She will ‘sleep through’ the night, ‘sleep in’ until an almost human 6am on occasion and generally make us feel like we’re finally doing something right. My husband and I will smile at one another in the morning, sipping on our coffees smug in the knowledge that babyhood is behind us. We’ve done it. Hurrah for us. But as if on cue, she will sniff out our sense of calm, decide that we’ve had quite enough rest for the week and promptly proceed to rain chaos down upon our household.
Jokingly, I have diagnosed her with insomnia—for her periods of wakefulness tend to strike between 1–2am and last for at least two to three hours. It’s truly baffling. And truly exhausting. And yet I remain a slave to her needs. Every time I make the long journey down the hallway to ‘resettle’ her—which involves a big cuddle, a little bit of a slow sway and a stern word to please go the F to sleep—I swear I can see the pleasure in her eyes. She knows she has won the battle, again.
While the nights are long, by the time the dawn arrives—I’ve all but surrendered to my fate. There truly is no other option if I want to maintain my sanity. All I can do is dive headfirst into my morning coffee, resigned to the knowledge that I have absolutely no control over what the night ahead will bring. In fact I have very little control about what the day will bring either. Such is toddlerhood.
All I can hope for is that at some point, I will win the war. Just maybe not today.
I’m with you in this one. 18 months in and it’s brutal. I also had the rude awakening as my first IS the unicorn sleeper!! My youngest came to rock my world in every single way possible. Hugs and solidarity xxx