We soon learned that sleep deprivation is a rite of parenthood. Undisturbed slumber is a precious commodity when there is an infant in the house. Within a few weeks, David informed me that he had the title for my first book: Is There Sleep After Childbirth.
I'm one of those people who need approximately nine hours of sleep a night to function properly. This has always been the case. When I was a child, our church would hold two-week revivals. As the minister's daughter, I had to attend services nightly without fail. Invariably by the time the revival ended, I was literally sick from lack of adequate sleep. I usually missed at least a day of school while my debilitated body recovered. Sleep was the essential ingredient for recuperation.
Thus, childbirth was traumatic for me. With a baby waking all hours of the night demanding to be fed, I wondered if I'd ever again sleep through the night. Since I napped with my son, the sleep deprivation wasn't severe enough to render me physically ill. It was erratic enough to leave me psychologically unbalanced. If my mother hadn't stayed with us for the first few weeks while I adjusted, I might now be residing in a prison for abusing, neglecting, or even strangling my child at 2 a.m. some hapless morning.
Recognizing that I would become demented if my rest was disrupted too often, David offered to alternate night feedings with me after Mama went home. Since he was a very sound sleeper, I'd have to kick him when the baby cried, and it was his turn to get up. I admit that on more than one occasion, I kicked him twice in a row because I knew he would stumble out of bed, his mind in a haze, and start feeding Joshua before he was sufficiently awake to realize that he'd done the same thing a few hours earlier. At that point, as I hoped, he was already awake and so continued to feed the child rather than returning to bed to roust me out for the feeding. Thus, I managed to keep my sanity during the first months of Josh's life.
As he got older, he learned to hold his bottle on his own. Despite warnings that babies shouldn't be left alone in a crib with a full bottle, I would take Joshua his bottle and return to bed. By that time David's cooperativeness had diminished, and so I was left with all of the night feedings.
I wrongly assumed that our son would soon grow out of his need for a bottle in the middle of the night. When he was a year old, the pediatrician told me that Josh really didn't need the night bottle. He said it was just habit and told me to simply let him cry one night, and he would soon tire, ending the habitual demand and breaking him of his nightly bottle.
The doctor obviously did not know my son. The first night Josh cried for four hours straight before I capitulated and took him the bottle he was angrily demanding. The second night I succumbed to his insistent tones after two hours. By the third night, I gave in at the slightest whimper. When I returned to the doctor for Josh's next checkup, I informed him that I would gladly loan him my son, and he could break him of his nightly habit. Otherwise, the nighttime feeding would continue until Josh voluntarily relinquished it.
By the time he was two, Josh had been weaned from the bottle, but he still awoke in the middle of the night wanting to drink. Since he used a Tupperware sippy cup during the day, I started putting a full sippy cup in the window beside his bed so he could get his own drink without disturbing Mom.
The ploy didn't work completely. It seems that when Joshua awoke, he didn't like being alone. He got his drink and then, on many nights, came into our bedroom and asked to get into bed with us. I returned him to his room and sat with him until he went back to sleep. When he approached David's side of the bed, his father obliged.
This was a child who was a restless sleeper. He would toss and turn, pull the covers askew, throw his arm into your face, and sleep from one end of the bed to the other. After the second time Josh climbed into our bed, I put my foot down. I told David he was not to allow Josh into our bed under any circumstances, so, my compliant husband simply directed Josh to my side of the bed. I soon tired of escorting him to his room. I placed a sleeping bag on the floor by our bed and told him that if he woke up and came to our room, he could stay but only if he slept on the sleeping bag.
Most mornings, I would awaken to find Josh curled up in the sleeping bag beside our bed. When he was two-and-a-half years old and Zach was one, I placed Zach's crib in Josh's room. Evidently he simply disliked being alone because after that he ceased using the sleeping bag. He didn't, however, give up his nightly drink for another year.
So, there is sleep after childbirth. But if you have several children, by the time they all reach the all-night sleeping stage, the oldest will be a pre-teen, and there will be lots of other things to occupy your mind and deprive you of sleep.
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Faith smiled as she put down the journal. She remembered the time she'd agreed to take care of a baby for a couple of weeks while the mother served as a children's camp counselor. Mama warned her of the probability of nightly interruptions. Undeterred, she told her that it would be no problem. The first night, Faith slept right through the baby's whimpers. When she was in full cry, Mama came into the room and shook Faith awake.
"Faith, get up and silence the wailing banshee," she told her. "She's your responsibility, and I'm not going to step in for you."
She did pick her up and try to comfort her while Faith got the bottle, but by that time the babe was so angry that she refused all comfort. When the bottle arrived, the baby was so mad that she refused to eat. Mama finally took her and coaxed her to eat. Faith lost several hours of sleep that night because she slept through the baby's initial demands for food. After that, she slept with an alert ear tuned to childish whimpers.
Taking out her baby book, Faith looked at the pictures of Josh holding her. He'd been 10 when she was born. There was one picture of her perched atop Josh's shoulders. Her laughing baby face and Joshua's maturing countenance were obviously cut from the same mold.
"When I have children, is this what they'll look like?" she wondered. Pain stabbed her in the heart. "How would Aaron deal with having a child after he'd aborted his first? Would the ghost of a blond baby haunt him? Would it haunt her, especially now that she knew Kyra?" Realizing she needed to talk to someone, she dialed Josh.
"Hey, bro," she said. "Can you get away for some tea and pie?"
"I'm afraid not, Sis," came the answer. "I've got an important meeting in 20 minutes. Why don't you come over for supper? Ivy's cooking."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Josh. I need to talk to you about something."
"And you have an objection to Ivy being present?" Faith and Ivy were more like sisters than sister's-in-law.
"The subject might be a little difficult for someone in her condition."
"She's just pregnant, Faith." Josh sounded amused. "Her stomach isn't even queasy. I'm sure if it's too much, she'll excuse herself."
"I could use a woman's perspective, but I'm not sure, Josh. Can you meet me somewhere for a preview? You can be the judge of whether it's a topic Ivy can handle."
"And what will I tell her about why I'm going to be late? I'll be working right up until closing time."
"Tell her I called with an emergency and that you're going to come by and lend a hand before bringing me home for supper," I said. "That's the truth. Perhaps a bit misleading, but the truth nonetheless."
"And if she asks the nature of the emergency?"
"Tell her you were heading to a meeting when I called, and we didn't have time to get into particulars, but I sounded desperate."
"Then what do we tell her if I agree with you that she is too tender in her condition to hear your problem?"
"You'll think of something, Josh."
After hanging up the phone, Faith made herself a cup of tea. She was about to let Aaron's skeleton out of the closet. Just thinking about the upcoming conversation made her nervous. After gulping down her tea and burning her tongue, she went back to the journal, needing a distraction to quell her anxious thoughts.
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Sleeplessness was not the only side effect of childbirth. David and I had to learn a whole new set of coping skills.
We learned that while babies can't talk, they have a complete array of cries they use to signal their needs. Josh had an angry you-had-better-do-something-quick-or-I'll-never-calm-down' bawl. He had a 'my-diaper-is-full-and-I'm-tired-of-wallowing-in-this-mess' wail. He had an 'I'm-hungry' fuss that quickly escalated to the 'feed me' of the Little Shop of Horrors man-eating plant. The most frustrating was his 'I'm-in-pain' howl. Unfortunately it didn't come with a 'where-the-pain-is-located' manual, and so I would prod and poke until the howl turned to a screech when I touched the right area. Finally, there was the 'I'm-bored-and-want-some attention' weep complete with fake crocodile tears.
David and I had numerous 'discussions' as we tried to chronicle the various whimpers and sobs so that we didn't always shove a bottle in Josh's face and then check the other end for feces. When both of those failed, the other option was to stick in a rectal thermometer. At 2am, the ability to ascertain the source of the cry was of particular import. Knowing that the sobs meant pain and not hunger had the potential to preserve sanity and avoid possible child abuse.
Parental discussions became a frequent form of communication, threatening to overwhelm normal conversation. The 'source-of-the-cry' dialogues were replaced by the 'what-a-cute-thing-he-did' discourses. These gave way to the 'form-of-discipline' debates, followed by the 'where-did-he-learn-that-word' exchanges.
Our weekly dates continued, but we found it increasingly difficult to find a topic that avoided his job and mine. My job was spelled 'mommy;' his was spelled 'parson.' Since I was a member of the church and he was on the mommy team, it was difficult to converse for two hours without mentioning one or both of our jobs.
Another skill we learned as new parents was how to induce sleep. I read that newborns sleep about 16 hours a day. Unfortunately Josh couldn't read. He was what my grandmother called a 'wakey' baby. His alert brown eyes followed me around the room. If he couldn't see me, he went into the 'I'm-bored-and-want-some-attention' weep. I removed the protectors from the side of the crib because he couldn't see over them. This helped, as long as I was in the room.
His wakefulness wasn't the main problem. He fought sleep. When he was tired, he refused to allow himself to dose off. We tried singing to him; he sang along. We tried ignoring him, but the 'you-had-better-do-something-quick-or-I'll-never-calm-down' bawl quickly escalated into the 'I'm-mad-as-heck' bellow. We tried rocking him. He refused to lay his head on our shoulders.
Only two things had any affect on Josh. If we put him in his car seat and took him for a ride, he would fall asleep. David spent many a weary evening driving around until our son nodded off. The other tactic was jiggling him. David would turn him on his stomach across his knees and bounce them rhythmically. If his legs didn't give out, Josh would eventually go to sleep.
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Fidgeting May Be Hereditary
BY SYDNEY LANDER
Fidgeters burn more calories a day than non-fidgeters, giving them an advantage in the weight control game. If you fidget, you can maintain your weight while eating more calories than a calm, still person. Researchers at Mayo Clinic found that people who fidget while seated burn 40 to 60 more calories an hour than the motionless, and when standing they burn 70-100 more calories.
Pencil rappers, knee jigglers, toe tappers, and even doodlers can expend enough energy a day to merit indulgence in an ice cream cone or candy bar without adding to their love handles. While fidgeting does not take the place of exercise, it is a useful habit to acquire.
Unfortunately fidgeting cannot be taught, since by definition fidgeting is a "spontaneous, non-volitional movement." I am by nature a still individual. While this is good because it gives an illusion that I'm in control, it means I burn fewer calories during the day.
I live with several fidgeters. They tend to drive me crazy. Zach, our middle child, is by far the worst. He is never still. He is always jiggling one leg or the other. When he sits by me on the church pew, he shakes the whole pew. I keep putting my hand on his leg, trying to stop it, but to no avail.
I think fidgeting must be either genetic or learned at a very early age. I tell my husband David that he is responsible for our children's tendency to fidget. If fidgeting is genetic, the fidget gene came from him. If it is environmental, he is still at fault.
When the boys were infants and started to fuss, he would lay them over his knee and gently bounce them. They would remain calm as long as his knee remained in motion. If he didn't tire before they did, he could put them to sleep by jiggling them.
When Zach was young, David pastored a country church. There was no nursery on Wednesday night, and so the boys came into prayer meeting with us. One Wednesday Zach was fussy. David took him from me and put him on his knee and began to bounce him while he talked.
One of our nursery workers exclaimed, "So that's the secret. All we have to do when he gets fussy is bounce him on our knees."
After that incident, the nursery workers had no problems with Zach. They would just put him on their knee and jiggle him instead of rocking or walking him.
I don't know whether all that bouncing taught my kids to fidget or whether they had a genetic predisposition to fidget that caused jiggling to calm them. I do know that they are now grown, and they continue to fidget.
Medical researchers should try to isolate the fidget gene. If it is found, perchance I can have it artificially inserted into my gene pool so I can fidget. If I were to begin fidgeting now, perhaps the middle-age propensity to put on weight as the metabolism slows could be retarded or reversed. One can always hope.