I celebrated my birthday last weekend.
My family blessed me with exactly the right gift – two nights away to get caught up on sleep. (I know. Can you believe it? They’re awesome!)
This was literally the only gift I really wanted.
After several years of one sleep battle after another (really 13 years, but who’s counting?), it’s just a given around here.
I am sleep deprived.
Depending on how each of my children are sleeping, I average between 3-5 hours of uninterrupted sleep (and about 1-2 additional hours of interrupted, up and down, trying to find things to help them while still half asleep, sleep) a night. Like, always.
Some nights it’s less. On very rare occasions, it’s more.
Sleep Deprivation and Mothering a Child with Special Needs
I can always take a nap. No problem at all.
Even on my most anxious days, I quickly fall asleep at night.
Sitting in therapists’ waiting rooms, I find myself nodding off every single time.
I can fall asleep sitting up, without blankets or a pillow, on the couch, in my child’s bed, and in the car with the seat back.
I am pretty sure I could curl up on one of the couches in Costco on a busy Saturday afternoon, and sleep like a baby.
I am chronically sleep deprived, y’all. For reals.
Most of the time, it just is what it is.
I don’t even really notice it much anymore. I take naps when I can. I plan to be useless for the last few hours past dinnertime each night.
I just kind of go with it.
But getting away for those two nights reminded me just how much sleep matters.
It reminded me that most of the time, I am operating at less than maximum capacity.
After blissfully sleeping for as long as I wanted to, I came home to two children ready to meltdown (because momma gone for two days is certainly a change in routine).
And meltdown they did. All night long.
You know what?
Because I had gotten a little rest, I was so much more capable.
I was patient.
I was kind.
I held firm boundaries.
I was able to think of options to help them, and react when they didn’t.
It felt almost easy.
I am writing this to remind myself, and maybe you, that sleep deprivation has an impact on our mothering. There is no way around it.
I want to remember this, the next time I have no grace for my lack of patience, or my inability to get up and clean the kitchen.
I want to remember this when it is 2:00 AM and I am nodding off, instead of paying attention to the anxious, overwhelmed child in front of me.
I want to remember this when I see another mom, with her hair done, her make-up on, and wearing an outfit that doesn’t involved an elastic waistband, when I barely remembered a bra.
I want to remember this when I haven’t grocery shopped, my fridge is bare, and the pantry looks like the Grinch came and pushed all the food up the chimney before his heart grew 3 sizes that day.
I want to remember it when I feel like I am failing.
I am sleep deprived. Not a bad mom. Not a bad wife. Not a bad homemaker, blogger or friend.
I am simply a mom of kiddos with special needs, that require a lot of me at night.
And maybe, just maybe, I can give myself a break.
Take a nap, allowing the boys more screen time.
Tell the therapist he might need to wake me up when he has completed my child’s appointment.
Ask my husband to take over on Saturday mornings.
Admit that I need help.
Because sleep is a big deal.
Even when you are the mom.
Maybe especially when you are the mom.