Most cranio parents try to mentally, physically and emotionally prepare for the period of time that spans from a few days before the surgery to the end of the hospital stay, and maybe the first night at home. We ask questions like: “What should we bring to the hospital for the baby/ourselves?”. “How long should we expect to stay at the hospital?”, “How swollen will they be?”, etc… Our focus, as well as the focus of our family and close friends, is getting through the surgery and making it home from the hospital.
Shortly after arriving home from the hospital, my mom arrived to spend some time with us, and help wherever she could for a few days. I came home very grateful, but exhausted. I barely had any sleep at the hospital. Between worrying, all the machines beeping, nursing, his odd waking times, pumping and everything else, real sleep just wasn’t possible. My son was in good spirits when we got home. He didn’t seem drowsy, or really in pain, in fact, he seemed like his regular happy self. In fact, so much so, that we decided to take him to playgroup where Santa would be visiting. So many of the moms, and even the facilitator, where surprised to see us there—after all, quite a few of them knew about the surgery and didn’t expect to see us for a while. That week, we also successfully introduced him to cereal (he enjoyed eating) and he continued to nurse, play, and interact successfully. But one major thing changed. His sleep started to deteriorate.
I was never one to abide by a strict sleep schedule and have all this special sleep training (though, a part of me wished I had). My son went with the flow, he nursed, he napped as the day went on and for the most part, I adjusted accordingly. I didn’t rush home because he “typically napped at this time”. He was a baby, he napped multiple times a day and when it happened, it happened. But one of the things he slowly stopped being able to do very well was sleep independently. Up until this point, I could usually put him down in his bassinet somewhat drowsy or asleep and he would continue to sleep – but not after surgery.
At first, he needed to be stroked and shushed, that soon transitioned into needing to be held, rocked/soothed/nursed back to sleep multiple times a night. He would wake up and scream (not just cry), terrifying me at times. I wondered if he was having nightmares, if he was in some sort of pain, if he thought we had abandoned him. I wondered how much of the whole ordeal he remembered. I recall having my wisdom teeth removed, waking up from the anesthesia and then having the pain medications start to wear off—it was awful. And my child, who was less than 6 months old had gone through much worse. I hoped that what they said was true, that he had no memory of it—but a part of me didn’t believe them. I provided some pain killers as directed when the cries sounded different, but tried to avoid them more and more as time went on—especially if he didn’t seem like he was in pain.
Sleep at night worsened. No longer could I soothe him back to sleep as easily; now he needed to be held to sleep. So, I spent many nights sitting up in bed holding him. Many times if I adjusted or even tried to place him down, he’d wake again. My husband was working during this time, so he also wasn’t getting much sleep. Sometimes, I would tell him to go into the guest room just to get a few hours. There was no need for both of us to be exhausted. In the middle of this adjustment, was our car accident on Christmas Day. Now, we weren’t only not sleeping properly, but we also had to deal with insurance companies and finding a new vehicle. I tried to use the carrier during the day, but I often found that some days it was a bit much on my c-section incision (and yes, it was adjusted correctly). During all of this, we showed up to things, exhausted, but smiling, with our child. We weren’t going to let him miss out on life because of this. Even some of our close friends didn’t know how rough it was for us—to them the worse was over. Surgery was a success. I felt like I couldn’t complain about something like sleep. We were fortunate, lucky, #blessed! Things were going to be fine. His incision was healing nicely (the doctors agreed), and we continued to use the polysporin on his incision (as it was prescribed post-surgery). We got his helmet (more on that in another post), and he adjusted so quickly. His head shape was coming along beautifully. Losing sleep was a minor detail.
Until one night, I realized I was starting to doze with the baby in my arms, and that was when the SIDS-fearing part of me shut down and co-sleeping began. One of my BEST parenting ideas! We had a King-sized bed. I set up a perimeter with pillows so neither of us would roll over on him, and off we went. And guess what, I had better sleep. We all did! Being nearby and, I guess, smelling Mommy made my little one feel safe. It was perfect.
For a while anyway.
Soon after he started to sleep so close to me that I was nearly cradling him as I slept—which meant I wasn’t really sleeping again. He would be awake a lot of the night and then towards the afternoon want to sleep—it was like his whole day was reversed. At around 6 weeks post-op, after lots of prayers and tears (both of us), he finally slept through the night and we soon put him into his own crib/room).
I look back on that now and it seems like such a short period of time—but it seemed like it lasted forever. I look back at the messages I sent updating our family and friends on his condition – they were so positive and cheerful—how could they have known we were struggling. Why didn’t I tell them? I think I was scared. Scared that I needed help, scared that I messed my kid up. Scared that I was a bad mom—one that couldn’t understand her child’s cues, that couldn’t soothe him or make him feel safe. I was afraid that people would have comments about nursing, feeding, and sleeping techniques and regimens that I should be following. And REALLY scared that I would come off as ungrateful. So, I, and we, suffered in silence.
Yes—losing sleep is not the worst thing. There are kids who get infections, additional surgeries, etc…, there are also kids who have none (or very little) re-adjustment phase. I wasn’t aware of how much my sleep deprivation would impact my physical, mental and emotional health. How It affected my temper, my ability to handle the increasingly mounting stress that I had, and even my closest relationships. I was so tired and overwhelmed that I wasn’t taking care of myself in the ways that I needed to. I put all of the energy that I had left into taking care of my little one. I wanted so much for my baby to be seen as normal, for everything to seem normal, that I internalized the negative feelings. I told people and showed them what they wanted. “Everything is fine!”. But it was sometimes hard for me to listen as friends and moms I met talk about life with their kids, how normal things seemed. I wanted our lives to be “normal” again.
I think about how many other parents, how many people are out there struggling in silence because they FEEL like they should be happy; like they should have it together by now; like they should not let people know what they are really going through or how they feel. Maybe you are one of those people. I feel you. I am you. But really, there is no strength in our self-inflicted silence. The only hope, and help is in our honesty. So let’s be honest with ourselves and with others. Strength does come from our struggles, but nobody should struggle alone.
To Be Continued...
"The struggle you're in today is developing the strength you need for tomorrow. Don't give up." -- Robert Tew
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