One story I found, took me by surprise a little, as it's one I never posted. Just wasn't the right time, right place, right anything. But it's Baby Loss Awareness week, and so maybe it will bring someone comfort this week, or at least a place to acknowledge her own loss.
I didn't get to meet the latest baby in this one, but I did go on to have another, and for her,
I am truly grateful.
I find myself 6 weeks pregnant and I decided at precisely 1:09am that tonight was the night that my other baby, (the 17month old) would not have night time feeds anymore. Good decision Mumma Bear. Solid! You can do this. I do love our night time feeds though... Everyone tells you how little sleep you'll get with a baby, or a subsequent baby, or a subsequent subsequent baby. People do love a doom & gloom moment to share; maybe it's to warn you, to prep you, but nothing quite prepares your mind or body for it anyway. But people should also share those golden moments, in the sleep deprivation haze, those little golden moments, where it's quiet and you get to snuggle them, and it's just you and them.
Every night between 1 and 3am, my baby girl makes that sad little whimper. I stir and mechanically wander downstairs. I wash up a bottle I find on the sofa, (she's 5th kid in, that changes things). I pour milk in the bottle, I microwave it, I drink out of it and I zombie walk back up to her room. I pick her up, and her dummy, and her other dummy, and her Woof Woof and her Bunny and anything else she sleepily points at. Off we all go and sit on the edge of my bed, having a cuddly feed.
Some days, I try to make my eyes focus enough to read scripture. Most other days, I try to make my eyes focus enough to read status updates. It only takes a few minutes, then it's dummy in, hoist her onto my shoulder, gather her paraphernalia in my arms, carry her back into her room, lay her down in her cot, and she peacefully goes off to sleep, content and happy. And with a smug sense of maternal achievement, I do the same.
But tonight, I realised... well I've known for a while... that she really probably shouldn't still be having a bottle of milk, in the middle of the night, every single night, at her age. I've used the 'teething' excuse, the 'having a cold' excuse, the 'hungry' excuse, and the 'unsettled' excuse for long enough now. When the reality is, I just like our snuggly sleepy cuddles. And that's ok. Afterall, she is my last baby. But I do seem to be 6 weeks pregnant, with this latest last baby.... But it has made me realise that in a few months time, I really only want to be doing night time feeds for one of my babies, not multiple.
So I decided at 1:09am that I would go cold turkey with her. I have offered her water and various dummies. I have cuddled Woof Woof into her. I have covered her up and said 'Goodnight'. She is of course, screaming the house down. That was 27minutes ago. Now she's doing the guilt whimper; the "I thought you loved me" whimper, the "I miss my mummy" whimper. Oh she's good! I'm sitting here holding her water and a bottle of milk, wondering when I will cave in and pick her and woof woof and bunny up and put the whole house back to its peaceful state with our snugly cuddle.
Do I let her cry it out or do I go and give her the one thing which will make us both feel better? Tears or sleep? Screams or sleep? Awake or sleep? My instinct says, "go for the sleep option, you might never sleep again". But then I know the day will come when either I'm feeding both babies in the middle of the night or just one. I can hear another child stirring, which is one of my other excuses for keeping up the night feeds. No mum wants more than one child awake at any given time during the night.
Maybe I'll pray, one of those incoherent slurry prayers, where only God knows what I'm saying. I'll ask God for guilt free snugly cuddles or the grace I need to see this through.
An hour and a half in, since we started 'Operation no sleep tonight'. Look at me, holding out! She's going with the cute "mama" guilt ploy. She sounds so cute. I have picked her up and offered her the water again. We repeated the screaming phase, as soon as she realised there was no warm milk on offer. She's so fickle. The husband rolled over and said something which sounded like 'Well Done'. I asked him if I should just give her the milk and he said he didn't know, which has thrown me. That's so unlike him. He's usually the best at this bit, quite focused when it comes to letting them cry it out, but tonight he wants sleep too. He's been doing this for years. Yes we know it wont take long really, once we break their night milk habits...but tonight has already taken years and it's only 3am. I take his 'Well Done' as 'Keep going', and I hold out. She's whimpering now.
My cute baby girl. Maybe she's teething or she's got a cold or she's hungry....
Morning did come round, as did the dark circles under my eyes. My baby girl loved me just as much the next day, and loved her morning milk even more. It took three nights, that's all. Three nights for her to realise she wasn't starving hungry, and could actually sleep through. Three nights for me to realise that 17 months was quite a long time to be getting up for our snuggly cuddles. I shall enjoy my relatively undisturbed sleep, until the heartburn and wees of Baby number six comes into play.
The little one in this blog post didn't make it. I don't know why. I don't think there's always reasons for these moments, or understanding. I remember the heartache and the physical pain. I remember sharing tears with the husband, and with my mum over the phone.
I remember the box of 'loss' leaflets, propping open the door in the waiting room. I remember thinking that was insensitive. I remember the scan and not much being said. What was there to say? I remember feeling that she was a girl. I remember being fine. And I remember remembering. I am comforted to know that she went straight to meet her Father in Heaven; bypassed this world and got to be cuddled by the one who loves her more than I ever could. She never had tears, never had to whimper, just went straight to where there is no pain, no battle-ground milk feeds and always peace. I'll meet her one day and enjoy a snuggly cuddle I'm sure.
"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit".
But tonight, I realised... well I've known for a while... that she really probably shouldn't still be having a bottle of milk, in the middle of the night, every single night, at her age. I've used the 'teething' excuse, the 'having a cold' excuse, the 'hungry' excuse, and the 'unsettled' excuse for long enough now. When the reality is, I just like our snuggly sleepy cuddles. And that's ok. Afterall, she is my last baby. But I do seem to be 6 weeks pregnant, with this latest last baby.... But it has made me realise that in a few months time, I really only want to be doing night time feeds for one of my babies, not multiple.
So I decided at 1:09am that I would go cold turkey with her. I have offered her water and various dummies. I have cuddled Woof Woof into her. I have covered her up and said 'Goodnight'. She is of course, screaming the house down. That was 27minutes ago. Now she's doing the guilt whimper; the "I thought you loved me" whimper, the "I miss my mummy" whimper. Oh she's good! I'm sitting here holding her water and a bottle of milk, wondering when I will cave in and pick her and woof woof and bunny up and put the whole house back to its peaceful state with our snugly cuddle.
Do I let her cry it out or do I go and give her the one thing which will make us both feel better? Tears or sleep? Screams or sleep? Awake or sleep? My instinct says, "go for the sleep option, you might never sleep again". But then I know the day will come when either I'm feeding both babies in the middle of the night or just one. I can hear another child stirring, which is one of my other excuses for keeping up the night feeds. No mum wants more than one child awake at any given time during the night.
Maybe I'll pray, one of those incoherent slurry prayers, where only God knows what I'm saying. I'll ask God for guilt free snugly cuddles or the grace I need to see this through.
An hour and a half in, since we started 'Operation no sleep tonight'. Look at me, holding out! She's going with the cute "mama" guilt ploy. She sounds so cute. I have picked her up and offered her the water again. We repeated the screaming phase, as soon as she realised there was no warm milk on offer. She's so fickle. The husband rolled over and said something which sounded like 'Well Done'. I asked him if I should just give her the milk and he said he didn't know, which has thrown me. That's so unlike him. He's usually the best at this bit, quite focused when it comes to letting them cry it out, but tonight he wants sleep too. He's been doing this for years. Yes we know it wont take long really, once we break their night milk habits...but tonight has already taken years and it's only 3am. I take his 'Well Done' as 'Keep going', and I hold out. She's whimpering now.
My cute baby girl. Maybe she's teething or she's got a cold or she's hungry....
Morning did come round, as did the dark circles under my eyes. My baby girl loved me just as much the next day, and loved her morning milk even more. It took three nights, that's all. Three nights for her to realise she wasn't starving hungry, and could actually sleep through. Three nights for me to realise that 17 months was quite a long time to be getting up for our snuggly cuddles. I shall enjoy my relatively undisturbed sleep, until the heartburn and wees of Baby number six comes into play.
The little one in this blog post didn't make it. I don't know why. I don't think there's always reasons for these moments, or understanding. I remember the heartache and the physical pain. I remember sharing tears with the husband, and with my mum over the phone.
I remember the box of 'loss' leaflets, propping open the door in the waiting room. I remember thinking that was insensitive. I remember the scan and not much being said. What was there to say? I remember feeling that she was a girl. I remember being fine. And I remember remembering. I am comforted to know that she went straight to meet her Father in Heaven; bypassed this world and got to be cuddled by the one who loves her more than I ever could. She never had tears, never had to whimper, just went straight to where there is no pain, no battle-ground milk feeds and always peace. I'll meet her one day and enjoy a snuggly cuddle I'm sure.
"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit".
Psalm 34v17-18
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