Phantom cries and downstairs time
I’ve started sneaking downstairs after my baby* falls asleep. We bedshare, and usually I stay there with him, because usually by the time he passes out it’s late enough and I’m tired enough that I have no desire to leave—I just look at my phone and read.
But lately, aka last night and right now, I’ve been experimenting with coming downstairs, even if just for a little bit, even though I’m exhausted, because I’ve realized I need to claim what I heard Glennon Doyle call a “there she is” moment.**
As in, after being present for everyone else all day—my child, my partner, my coworkers, my work—I need a little time with myself, to recognize myself.
So here I am, and I am grateful. But also, I keep thinking I hear my baby bawling.
Phantom cries are not new to me; I’ve been hearing them since his infancy. Even so, I’m so rarely apart from him that I hear them pretty rarely.
(Interestingly enough, I don’t hear them when he’s with a caregiver I trust, only when he’s alone and I’m in another room.)
But that’s why we have a video monitor. So three times last night I was sure he was crying inconsolably, and three times I checked the monitor and saw he was completely asleep.
Then eventually I turned off the monitor, plugged it into the charger downstairs, and went upstairs to brush my teeth and then join my baby in sleep.
While the toothbrush was whirring, I again thought I could hear my son howling.
“Oh, wow, those phantom cries really do sound real,” I thought to myself, just as I’d thought three times in the previous hour.
Except, a moment later I realized he actually was howling.
Because of course he chose(?) the exact window of time—which was, what, 90 seconds?—I was actually unavailable to wake up and freak out.
I was amazed to notice how fast my body snapped into “Mom mode.” Intellectually I was pretty sure he was safe, but emotionally (biologically?) I couldn’t stand another instant of distress. I turned off my toothbrush before the timer was complete and hurried into the bedroom, shushing my way through the darkness till I could hold and soothe his sobbing body, which quickly relaxed back into sleep.
For as much as I need my alone time, I sure do love being together.
Love > fear,
(M)om
*I almost said “my kid” but I think I’ll cling to “baby” for a while longer. (They really *do* grow up so fast!)
**I heard Glennon Doyle say this near the end of the “Self Care” episode of We Can Do Hard Things, which I wrote about last week.
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