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I laid in bed this morning and my heart was filled with fear. It was 5:20 AM. I had just refused Ezra’s adamant requests to cover him up, and now he was screaming at me through the door.
I cover him up multiple times, every night, and at every night waking. But then he will shift or simply get out of bed, then demand I cover him up again. This time, I said no because I just couldn’t do it any more.
I worry because he needs to be independent. He needs to be not given into at every whim. He needs to not get his own way all the time. He needs to learn to self-soothe. He needs to learn to cope without Mommy doing everything for him all the time.
And he needs to do this, if for no other reason than that in six months, I’ll be responsible for yet another human being who will need me…actually NEED me…to do all of those things for him (or her).
And Ezra actually IS capable. Just like he’s capable of putting on his socks and shoes and shirt, wiping his bottom, buckling himself into his carseat, feeding himself, and calming down when he’s going through a meltdown.
But he refuses. And twenty minutes later he’s still screaming that he can’t do it and that we have to do it and that he NEEDS Mommy. Thus was the case this morning.
And just like that I’m lying in bed with tears on my pillow about to hyperventilate. I have to take calming breaths myself.
He worked through it, eventually. Well, Daddy helped him calm down and then Ezra decided to just not get back in bed and play instead. But he did stop screaming.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this. How will I parent an infant when all of my energy is spent parenting an infant-like high needs 4-year-old? How can I deal with more sleep deprivation when waking up with this child once or twice a night for a few weeks has literally wrecked me? What was I thinking getting pregnant again?
TimeHop daily reminds me of all the sleep deprived nights of the last four years and I actually start to wonder if sleep deprivation is traumatic enough to give a mom PTSD?
I fear that somehow, this is all my fault. That I’ve given in one too many times because I was just too daggone tired and I created a being who can’t be satisfied until I give in. And that it’s just a vicious cycle that will continue forever and ever and ever.
I don’t expect our next child to be any easier. I know that it’s technically possible, but I don’t see it happening. I drink Peaceful Mama tea and try to visualize sleeping babies, but my gut (and all the butterflies of movement within) are telling me that this one will come out just as active and stubborn as his (or her) older brother.
Special needs moms: How do you do this? How do you get past the fear and enjoy the thought of having another child? How do you go on to parent another child when your first demands so much of you?