This past month has been a difficult sea of movement for me, at times a torrent of waking hours followed by minuscule passages of fitful sleep. How I got through it all, it would seem, is simply by the fact that time marches forward. It may not feel simple as it is passing, but pass it does none the less. The countdown to Christmas in addition to the general buzz of the holidays (cleaning, food shopping, baking, present buying, cleaning, wrapping, holiday parties, more cleaning) was coupled by a fairly immense amount of pressure to complete Workplace deadlines that brought me right up to the final ours before Christmas Eve. This was the last big hurtle that the shutdown of our office presented, and although I will still deal with some residual affects in the months to come, what we successfully accomplished in the last month is nothing short of mind boggling.
While yes, all that was much to handle, I’ve been stomaching a much deeper fret. The sleep patterns of my four year old had become a great concern, one that finally came to a head last week with a call to our family doctor. A call I was frankly scared to make. An answer I was too afraid to hear.
Around the time of Halloween, and shortly there after we started dealing with the “people” in Sofia’s bedroom. These people were later clarified as pictures, dreams, or better stated, negative images born from a blossoming imagination. The issue of the nighttime visitors, however, progressed from tears from my little one before bedtime, to a Nightmare on Elm Street style refusal to sleep, to waking with nightmares in the wee hours of the morning. It is no exaggeration when I state that my little girl was padding to my bedside between the hours of 3:00 and 5:00 a.m. on a nightly basis for a month straight with tears in her eyes seeking comfort from her latest bad dream. Yet it seemed that no comfort I could provide her was enough to make it stop. As the two of us lost more and more sleep from day to day, the situation became all the more desperate.
Just a few examples of the dreams: there have been bugs trying to bite her, friends not sharing their toys during outside play, and a really strange one with Elmo at sea in a thunderstorm with a bug swimming nearby. We discussed each dream. She understood that they were not real. She accepted that they were just pictures and images. I suggested to her that she try not to think about them anymore, and to focus on things that make her happy. She claimed that she does try to do so, and with all the rationality of someone beyond her years, continued to explain to that choosing not think about them does not stop the dreams from coming once she falls asleep.
I’ve done the research. These are not night tremors. She is not waking from sleep screaming or unaware of what is happening. She can describe to me in great detail and clarity each nightmare she has immediately following each incident and for many, many days later. While doctors agree that it is not uncommon for children her age to have nightmares during this period of development, the frequency of the incidents became alarming.
There were no major changes in her life these past few months. There was no alteration to her routine. In general her days have been happy. Our daycare has had nothing of concern to report. So of course, as her mother I looked inward. The major changes have been with me. Who is the one who has been under an enormous amount of stress lately? You betcha…me, me, and more me.
I didn’t think I was exposing them to my current state of mind. My boy had been acting fine. She is an intuitive little girl, however, so it’s entirely possible my stress was rubbing off on her. When I spoke to her doctor words such as anxiety disorder, and early stages of OCD were thrown about. Really? In a four year old? MY four year old? It just shouldn’t be so, and in that case I would much prefer the problem to be because of me. The doctor and I tossed around ideas of books Sofia and I could read together to deal with the nighttime fears, discussions we could have together, and even the suggestion of a dream catcher which she may embrace given her vivid imagination.
But what if the dream catcher didn’t work? What if the books just scared her more? What if I said all the wrong things and only made the situation worse?
Just as I was preparing to have the big talk, however, I began to notice a change. The last few nights before Christmas when I found her in my room her level of distress didn’t quite seem so sincere. I began to question if the action of waking from the nightmares was actually forming a pattern or routine. Was she just becoming used to waking during that time, and coming to find me knowing that I would comfort her? I do not doubt that there were times when she was genuinely afraid, but I found myself questioning, to what degree?
The night before Christmas Eve I had a talk with her. I explained to her that everyone has bad dreams some times, even mommies. I explained to her what I do when I have a bad dream: take a few deep breaths and think about people I love and things that make me happy before closing my eyes to go back to sleep. I reminded her that if she is really scared and needs help she can come to me, but that maybe not every dream is so bad that she needs my help. Perhaps she could see how she feels, and try to go back to sleep on her own.
It was with our doctor’s support, and with great trepidation that I suggested this. I did not want to leave her with the impression that she could not come to me, but I also want her to become self actualized and strong, and to learn to believe in her own power. I thought the chat went well, and she said that she would give it a try.
Was it the talk? Was it the fact that my work stress for the most part has passed? Was it the excitement of the holidays? I’m not sure, but she has not come to my bedroom since. I have some concern with the fact that she is stating she is not having bad dreams, as opposed to the acknowledgement that she had one and dealt with it.
It has been just short of a week but we are both finally getting some solid sleep. Are we in the clear? Has this stage of development passed? Did I do the right thing? I’m not counting my chickens yet, or my sheep for that matter. Only time will tell.
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