It never really goes away, does it? How many times your brand new baby wakes you up every night and how you get him back to sleep morphs into whether, when, and how to sleep train. Once you're over the guilt and/or exhaustion produced by your decision, a bout of teething sends you over the edge and into thoughts about buying stock in infant Tylenol.
And, of course, there's illness.
I can't say exactly how many nights it's been since Jake slept through on his own because I am sleep deprived and fuzzy and probably should not be doing legal work today any more than I should be operating heavy machinery. I can say that I have come to accept that if Jake needs his mother in the middle of the night something is actually wrong. A few weeks ago I would have suggested he was merely torturing his mother by calling for her at 2:30 a.m., but, like all angry thoughts associated with lack of sleep, this one merely makes me feel really guilty when I recall thinking it.
At any rate, something has been amiss, and when the something amiss a couple of months ago was viral pneumonia, you forgive yourself for being overly cautious where your son's health is concerned. Overly cautious enough to bring us to the pediatrician's office this morning for the third time in six days.
Last night's cry at 11:00 engendered little discussion beyond Mike's offer to let me sleep on the daybed in the office. Since I knew I would jerk awake at every cry and cough anyhow, I preferred to be able to hold Jake close when I did.
Sounds like what mothers do, right? You comfort your child, putting aside your own needs, caring selflessly for your love. An image from the John Adams miniseries we're watching springs to mind: Laura Linney as Abigail Adams cleaning the puss off her sick daughter's small pox, pulling it together the second her voice begins to crack. And she also had to run a farm and raise four kids by herself while her husband hung out in Philadelphia finding his way into history books. Plainly, this is the prototype for mothers everywhere.
I'm proud to say I only shushed Jake once or twice last night. I uttered a single, "OW!" when he hit me in the face. Presumably, receiving the forecast of how the night would go before I hit REM sleep prepared me to be patient.
But it wouldn't be motherhood if I didn't feel I had done something unforgivably wrong. Like seek a comfortable position for my own sleep that did not involve letting Jake sleep on top of me. And failing to have a bottle of juice ready on the bedside table -- a source of particularly acute pangs of guilt when I reached for my own glass of juice to calm my coughs. I propped us up so he could sleep on an incline only some time around 4 or 5, another inexcusable offense. And, mostly, I didn't keep him from coughing, I didn't ease his discomfort, I didn't make him magically better.
This morning at breakfast, Mike said, "When we have one of these nights when Jake's up sick and he's cranky in the morning, even though I really don't like my job and have been liking it even less these past few weeks -- I'm really glad I get to go to it." He added a sweet note of appreciation for all I've done taking care of our sleep-deprived, occasionally cranky, always demanding, but also incredible boy these past few days. (He said "cookie" today! I mean, how incredible is that?)
Here's the really painful part: I totally agreed with him. I didn't doubt for a second that I have done something comparable to volunteering with the Red Cross in Sudan taking care of my own child for a few days. I didn't feel grateful to be the one with the flexible job who gets to stay home when Jake is sick. I even toyed with asking Mike to take the day off if we didn't get an okay from the doctor to go back to school. I sure did heave a sigh of relief when I left him there, playing on the new climbing castle.
What happened to Abigail and her selfless ministrations?
Practicing Compassion for Yourself
If there's one thing 15 months of motherhood has taught me, it's that if I ever run out of other people to criticize my parenting choices, I can always turn to myself. I know I do my best, I recognize that I am truly a patient person, I incorporate my yogic beliefs into how I treat my child. But after the fact, there's always room for improvement.
Like last night. I did not lose my patience in a desperate plea to let me sleep, dear god, let me sleep. I did that during Jake's last bout of nighttime neediness, and of course it made me feel like crap the next morning even though I was, um, really tired when I said it. But rather than feel good that I could be more patient last night, I focused on all the things a truly GOOD mother would have done -- the juice and the holding and the propping up. Because, don't you know, there is a camera set up in my room just like the ones on Big Brother so the whole world and all my in-laws can watch me being a bad mother.
Here's what I owe myself -- and I'm not alone here. We all deserve a little compassion from ourselves. Sure, no one else is going to push and criticize and make sure we do everything humanly and inhumanly possible for our children. But no one else is going to give us the break we are able to give ourselves either.
If one of my friends were to describe a night like my last one to me in tones of weepy regret, I'd tell her she did an amazing job. I'd say what her child really needed was her right there, and that's where she was. Whether she had her child sleep beside her in bed or rocked him until she could put him back in his crib or left her partner to deal with it, I would have told her she did the right thing. Because every mother needs someone else to tell her to take care of herself sometimes.
Today I'm going to say it to myself because I have a ton of work to get to and, after nearly two days of unplanned child caring, I don't have time to call a friend and let her say it for me.
I need to take care of myself sometimes. If I don't, I won't be able to take care of my child. That means that sometimes I will sleep instead of immediately meeting his needs. I will send him to school when I have work to do. I will try to sneak in a peek at the front page of the New York Times when I am supposed to be playing with him.
Compassion. It's a lot of what yoga is about.
A Compassionat Pose: Viparita Karani (Legs up the Wall)
When you're ragged and sleep-deprived, you might not need a strenuous yoga practice. "Shoot!" I thought this morning as I finished my breakfast. "Now I can't practice yoga." As if that's what I needed.
Restorative poses, on the other hand -- what a beautiful way to gain the psychic and spiritual benefits of yoga without punishing your poor body. Here's the great, simple, good-for-everything pose you can give yourself as a gift of compassion:
Viparita Karani (Legs up the Wall)
Legs up the wall -- it's the pose you know you should do instead of inversions when you're having your period but that you rarely actually do. Why let everyone else know you're having your period? Why look like a wimp who doesn't have the strength left to do headstand or shoulder stand? Viparita Karani, we hard core yogis tell ourselves, is for senior citizens with back issues.
Yeah? Try it and see if it isn't for tired moms as well.
1) Place a pillow or a folded blanket against a wall. Whatever you use should be comfortable, big enough to support your sacrum (lower back), and 2-4 inches in height.
2) Sit with your right hip against the wall and the pillow/blanket at your lower back, knees bent. You are sitting next to the wall.
3) Gently lean back and rotate your body so your buttocks come to the wall and you find yourself lying perpendicular to the wall, your sacrum supported by the pillow/blanket. Your legs should reach comfortably up the wall.
If this makes no sense or is impossible to execute, no worries! Just set yourself up however works for you. I like this method because it brings your butt right up to the wall without a lot of scrunching around.
4) Let your arms flop out about 45 degrees from your body, your palms facing the sky in a gesture of reception. If you'd like something under your head, just make sure you aren't crunching your neck. You can experiment with leg positions as you like.
5) Close your eyes and receive. You don't have to work in this pose. Just let your body relax, let the Universe do its thing, let it feel good. For a long time. You deserve it.
And don't you dare think of ditching this pose for headstand!
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