Crying Out

Sweet baby kisses...it doesn't get any better than this.

Sniff, sniff, sip.  Sniff, sniff, sip.  This is me right now.  No, I'm not crying at this moment but I feel like I've been hit by a bus.  It is with a bad head cold and a re-heated cup of coffee that I find myself typing this morning.

Mommy and the Bug with our sick eyes...all four of us are sniffling.

This week started high and came crashing down.  Monday, I was so happy.  We had just come off the long weekend, we celebrated and had a grand ol' time.  The kiddos were extra loved on with all the extra people around.  They were happy little cherubs.  That was the calm before the storm...literally.

Christmas at Disneyland...LOVE IT.

If you've read A Lesson from Amy, the night that finally gave me something to write about and what started my blog entries, you know I have a sweet Little Man who has had trouble sleeping.  It has been a long road since that 8 week old caused me to cry out to God in a way I hadn't in a long while.

Well, this week brought me to my knees again.

Not only is Little Man's night sleep a problem, his napping is not very spectacular either.  Just like his big sister he has been a cat napper...with moments of break through that cause me to hope we are turning a corner.  Then with the next day or the next nap my hopes are dashed...and so goes our days.

Sick and sleepy...of course he slept for two hours while I held him this afternoon.

On Wednesday this week I was having one of those "Super" days where nothing goes according to plan; the anxiety and frustration well up to the tipping point.  I was either going to implode or explode...either way it was not going to be pretty.   I put both kiddos in their beds and got in the shower, also known as my prayer closet, and cried out...I said my ugly thoughts out loud and prayed for mercy.  As I turned the streaming water off I crossed my fingers, hoping that God would take pity on me and there would be silence.  Alas, to no avail, the silenced shower head left ample room for the volume of my screaming children.  My ears were burning with their wails and that voice of self-condemnation..."Wow...aren't you mother of the year..."

I quickly dressed and grabbed a hair brush to brush out my hair before my hands were full again...and lo and behold, I brushed back my hair to find, to my horror, two spots on the corners of my head BALDING!!!  I kid you not, a few days ago there was hair and at that moment I saw scalp!  Ugly, white scalp that had never seen the sun!  SCALP.  It's not even a pretty word.  Tears immediately.  I called the Fly and said through choking sobs, after I was sure he was by himself, "I'm losing my hair!!!!"  He came home.

I cried and we discussed what it could be: hormones, Post Partum (even though this didn't happen with The Bug), because I stopped nursing, sleep deprivation, stress, etc.  We knew a trip to the doc was in order for me but in the mean time I needed to sleep.  The Fly banished me to the guest room and geared up for the storm ahead that night.

Bless his heart.  At 5:30am he came into the guest room and asked if I could come into our bed to stay with both babies.  He had to go outside and try to fix the Christmas lights that were "whapping"  against the window.  The wind had been blowing hard keeping the small people awake most of the night.  The Bug does not sleep well in our bed...she's wild and easily distracted from sleep...so she was not interested in sleeping and kept waking up the Little Man.  The howling wind and rattling walls did not help either but I didn't know about any of this until the gentle nudge just before dawn.

As the Fly stumbled out the door to work I was refreshed and ready to tackle this sleep issue with some clarity.  Sure, I was minus a few strands of hair, but I was determined to fix our problem.

I began the morning praying for direction, more clarity and that I would be sensitive to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  I wanted to be a good mom that day to make up for my behavior the day before.

After some consideration I made my decision.  Little Man was going to have to learn how to soothe himself to sleep, otherwise, his mama would be bald, his daddy would turn into a Zombie and his big sister would be calling all the shots.

Now let me be clear...I do not fall on either side of the fence in the cry it out, don't cry it out argument.  Of course, I would prefer to not have to let me sweet babies cry but I had tried everything up to this point and this was my last resort.  I do not judge you if you let your babies sleep with you until they're 5, (as I did with my parents...probably why I'm so concerned about my kids sleeping in their own beds,) and I don't judge you if you let your little ones cry to teach them to fall asleep on their own....A mama's got to do what  a mama's got to do...she's got to love her babies and she has to be sane...at least a little bit anyway.

So the training began.  I went in at five minutes, then ten minutes, then 15 minutes, then 20 minutes.  I really don't remember much as it was a constant cry fest.  During one of the intervals I opened my Bible.  I had been feeling a little convicted since I have read almost every sleep book there is (please excuse this slight exaggeration...but I have read a lot!)  and hardly cracked The Word open in the last few days.  I came across Psalm 86 and not only did it speak to me but it shouted at me!

Psalm 86

A prayer of David. ¹ Hear me, LORD, and answer me,
   for I am poor and needy.
² Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
   save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; ³ have mercy on me, Lord,
   for I call to you all day long.
⁴ Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
   for I put my trust in you.
 ⁵ You, Lord, are forgiving and good,
   abounding in love to all who call to you.
⁶ Hear my prayer, LORD;
   listen to my cry for mercy.
⁷ When I am in distress, I call to you,
   because you answer me.

I cried this out as my son cried out.  I cried out.  The Bug was playing and I was praying.   Again, I found myself begging God for sleep for my sweet baby.  I just knew that if he could soothe himself to sleep we would all be better for it.

Now, this is where I wish I could wrap up this entry nice and neat with a sweet message on how God answers our prayers but it wasn't nice and neat at all.  

All day that day and the next I let my sweet son cry it out.  Every time I left his crib he would sob.  It was a different kind of sob.  The kind that said to my soul, "Mommy, please don't leave me!"  I ached.  I cried.  I rearranged furniture.  I played worship music.  I played Christmas music.  I prayed more.  The Bug prayed with me.  Yet, he still cried.  There were a few times he fell asleep for about 15 or 20 minutes and I rejoiced thinking, "Finally!" but it would not last.

I created this to keep my hands busy

By 4:00pm yesterday I was done.  He had been crying for an hour and a half.  Even typing it makes my skin crawl and my eyes water.  I let him cry.  I let him cry for 90 minutes.  Finally, I went in and picked him up.  In seconds he was soothed...and then, a giant, heart melting smile that brought on mixed feelings of relief and guilt.

We stopped the process that night. We came home from a Christmas party and he was teething badly and very stuffed up.    He slept snuggled in close to his daddy. This morning he woke up sick.  I'm trying not to blame myself but it's hard.

I just want him to sleep.  I want him to be healthy.  I want him to love his crib.  As I've been reflecting on all of this I am once again reminded that God's perspective is so much greater than mine.

I was really angry.  Why wouldn't he answer these prayers.  It wasn't like I was asking for everything I touched to be turned to gold...I was asking for the basic needs of my child.

Then today a whisper aroused my heart.  I have been working through the book of Ruth, slowly.  In the beginning of the second chapter it talks about how Ruth happened to be in Boaz's part of the field.  The book of Ruth is a beautiful example of God's providence and how what we might consider happenstance is actually part of the larger perspective only He can see.

When I read through that I asked God what happenstance was upon me that day?  Looking back I now understand that I happened upon a struggle that day.  I may not like it or understand, it but it was part of my story...it was part of the Little Man's story.

With these thoughts my perspective has changed.  I happen to have a son who does not sleep well.  This is part of my story.  A person I love happens to have a baby who is having the hardest time nursing.  This is part of her story.  Three other people I love happen to have a hard time getting pregnant.  It's painful, but it's part of their stories.

Our problem does not lie in the happenstance but instead how we view it.  We all happen upon struggles; it is the posture we choose to take that determines how it affects our story.  We have a choice on how to view these moments as circumstance or happenstance.  We can easily view it as a punishment, we can easily view it as being forgotten.  It is much harder to view it as a piece of the narrative that reveals the redemptive work of Christ in our lives.

We have all cried out, whether it be as a helpless infant or helpless adult.  We have all experienced our prayers not being answered.  But, today, I want to remember that my God hears me.  My God sees my tears.  My God has compassion on me.  And, that is why I have the privilege of seeing my circumstances as his hand-picked happenstances.  It's part of my story.

Love those rolls.

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