MY WAR ON SLEEP CONTINUES. MUM 1. HARRY 1.
Dear Harry, forgive me.Imagine a plaster being ripped from an open wound. This is how much it hurt, and no, I'm not referring to labour.
Controlled crying. It saddens me to say, but last night we tried it. Seems an ironic name considering I was anything but controlled.
An hour and a half. Like a spur digging into my chest and twisting, each heart breaking cry made me whimper a little more. For an hour and a half my muscles scrunched up tighter and my thick choking breath grew heavy in my chest.
Poor Harry, I can only imagine what your little muscles must have felt like.
Every 10 minutes I ran to your room to comfort your cries and wipe the tears from your flushed cheeks, only to have to pull myself away a minute later. I lay face buried in the cushions as I willed the minutes to pass quickly so I could hold you once again.
For your own good I told myself. I was doing this for your own good.
Those cries did not say “mummy where are you?”, no they said “I want to sleep but I can't, mummy why can't I sleep?”.
Too many sleepless nights, and a sad little boy who fought shut eye to the tip of exhaustion and back is what led me to consider more drastic actions.
Actions for your own good my little Harry. I promise it was all for your own good.
To be able to shut your eyes with a smile on your face and an excited anticipation for the dreams that will follow, this is what I wanted to give you.
I used to curse the concept of control crying like so many of you out there will be cursing me now.
I endured it last night, and doubted my ability to ever do it again.
To my pleasant surprise as I carried my little boy to bed tonight, I noticed a smile on his face. He fell asleep in his cot without uttering a single cry.
Three hours later the house still sits in a strange silence, and I struggle to believe that my war with sleep is over. It could not have been that easy.
I hope that it was.
Until morning, goodnight and hopefully...sleep tight.
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