817 nights of interrupted sleep

Two and a half years ago, if you asked me how I felt about becoming a mom again, I would have told you I was beyond elated, and also completely terrified of not sleeping. My first go-around with an infant was rough. Only when Elijah started sleeping through the night did I finally start to feel like myself again. And I was lucky – it only took 12 weeks.

Noah was born healthy, fabulous and feisty. I was in love the moment I laid eyes on him and those first twelve weeks came and went quicker than I believed they could. But twelve weeks turned into six months, then a year, then two, and friends, we’re still not sleeping at night. Not one night. Not ever. We have somehow managed to survive 817 consecutive nights of interrupted sleep – over two years living like we have a brand new baby at home. It would be an understatement to say that we are tired.

This is not something I’ve spoken loudly about as a mom, mostly because I discovered quickly that everyone has an opinion about baby’s sleep. Even people who don’t have babies. Even pediatricians who should know better, or maybe just listen better. In my gut, I knew this wasn’t a he-just-needs-to-cry-it-out kind of issue, but it took putting my finger on what exactly was wrong, and finding the right people who understood what we were talking about, to point us in the right direction.

In November, we found out Noah had acid reflux. Once he started meds, his wakefulness at night was less chaotic – less screaming, less puking, less sitting on the couch to try to calm him down – and it made our nights much, much better. It made such a difference for our family we look at that moment in time as a great divide, pre-meds and post-meds, but it didn’t by any means solve the problem of him still waking up between 3 and 8 times a night. Every night.

Fast forward through chiropractic visits, early intervention evaluations, and specialist appointments to the end of May, when we were able to see a fabulous ENT at an incredible children’s hospital. In 30 minutes he discovered that Noah’s adenoids were blocking 80% of his nasal passage, potentially making it difficult for him to breathe at night. Another 10 minutes and we were scheduled for surgery. Tomorrow.

Throughout the week we’ve been doing our best to prep the boys, and Elijah has started telling us that this surgery is going to change Noah’s life forever. When you think about never having had a complete nights sleep in your entire life, a surgery that could change that, certainly would.

We’ve been told by the ENT there are no guarantees that the surgery will make Noah sleep the entire night, every night – but it could – and at the very least, it will most definitely help. So if you are the sort of person who prays, we would be very appreciative if you remembered Noah, especially tomorrow, that surgery would be uneventful and successful. That his recovery would be easy and complete, and that this in fact would be the final piece to the puzzle we are trying to solve.

We are so hopeful. For Noah. For us. I can’t imagine what sleep – real and uninterrupted sleep – would do for our entire family.

I think Elijah’s right. It’d change our lives forever.