Confession of a Normal Mother

Monday was a very hard day.  For some reason, on that day, something changed inside of Isaac and he needed something different to fall asleep for naptimes.  So instead of just fussing a little bit and falling asleep on his own, he would full-out scream, thrash, pinch, scratch his head and face until he was bleeding.    Laying him down in his bed did not work.  Holding him and comforting him did not work.  I was completely at a loss as to how to help him.



On top of this upsetting new development, after 45 minutes of trying to console a screaming Isaac, Evie eventually missed me and come upstairs to find me.  I know 45 minutes is a long time to leave a 3 year old alone, but trying to quietly and quickly explain to a 3 year old that if she could wait just 15 minutes more to make sure Isaac was fully asleep, just did not work.  Evie wanted to be close to me, not wait 15 more minutes.  She wanted to sit in my lap and for me to hold her, which was not going to work while I was holding a baby who was finally drowsing off to sleep.  My urgent and frustrated whispers to her were not working.  My one free hand pushing and pulling, trying to prevent her from waking the baby only made her upset.  She sat down on the floor next to me and started to wail.  The baby woke up and started to wail.  I was about to lose my mind and start to wail.  Thoughts of running away from crying and tired children raced through my head.  So I stood up and shouted, "THAT'S IT!  WE ARE ALL GOING OUTSIDE, NOW."

With a baby strapped to me in a carrier and Evie in her pink jellies, I began to calm down as I hung Isaac's cloth cotton diapers outside to dry in the sun and cool breeze.  Isaac quietly fell asleep with his little head against my chest and his arms and legs dangling.  Evie kicked off her socks and shoes so she could dance around in the grass, climb on top of the composter and sing songs of marrying Diego, and roll around in the grass for whoever knows why.  Her happiness was inspiring and contagious.  The diapers hung like little white flags of surrender all around my backyard, flapping in the breeze.  I said a silent prayer to God, asking forgiveness for wanting to run away from my children, and I asked for God to teach me patience.  I also asked him to give me a new perspective so I would see difficult situations as a journey with joys and hardships along the way, rather than focusing on accomplishing a task and getting frustrated if that task was not accomplished.

God heard my prayers.

Tuesday was also a hard day, but with a different outcome.  Isaac had an excellent morning nap, waking only once after 45 minutes but was able to put himself back to sleep.  When I went in to pick him up after his morning nap was done, I was shocked to find a large dried patch of blood on the top of his head from where he had scratched his head to put himself back to sleep.  The blood was cleaned off, Neosporin was applied and I found a light jacket with hoodie that could protect him from trying to scalp himself.

An hour and 15 minutes later, we began to move towards his second nap. He fell asleep for 45 minutes and then woke up and could not put himself back to sleep this time.  I stood at the door and made shushing sounds, which usually works.  This time, it did not work.  His fussing soon became full-tilt screaming, thrashing, pinching, scratching, flailing.  Nothing worked.  This went on for a long time.  I was tired and desperate.  I was hungry and all I could think about was my lunch, getting cold in the kitchen.  Finally, I realized I was patting his bottom with a little more force than necessary, and while I was rocking him I was also growling at him to go to sleep.  I was not helping at all.  I kissed him on the head, told him I loved him, and put him down in the crib.  His screams went nuclear as I walked away.

I sat down and ate half my lunch.  I drank some water.  I closed my eyes and gave myself a pep talk.  Then I went back into his room and picked him up.  I positioned him so I could pin his arms down in my arms as I held him to prevent him from hitting me or himself, and then rocked him as he screamed and cried.  After 45 minutes of persistent rocking and shushing, I laid an exhausted and sleeping Isaac down in his crib.  Then, I laid down in my bed.  Two hours later, we both woke up refreshed, calm, and happy to see each other.

I know it is normal for mothers and fathers to become frustrated when their children are crying and they cannot meet their needs, but there is still a tremendous amount of guilt when that frustration inevitably turns to thoughts of abandoning their children, or wanting to hit their children, or wanting to yell at their children to make the crying stop.  It is so hard to be calm when your children are not calm.  It is so hard to remain patient when your patience has been worn thin.

It is at moments like this that I am so grateful that I know a God who is loving, patient, calm and forgiving of me, and is able to teach me how to be all these things for my children.  God, I thank you, I thank you, I thank you.