46 EARLY DAYS
Surviving
SLEEP DEPRIVATION They say it’s the worst form of torture, and having gone through the pain of a non-sleeping baby, CARLA GOWER, a clinical psychologist in Temple Street, would agree. But she’s survived to tell her story – and gives us her top tips for getting through the pain of sleep deprivation...
I
expected tiredness. But I’d worked nights on a helpline, done all-nighters in college. I’d trained as a clinical psychologist. I knew about sleep; I taught parents about sleep. I could do this. When I think back, I could weep at my naivety. Because nothing could have prepared me for the effects of almost a year of sleep deprivation. If you’re going through something similar, you’re not alone. In a recent survey of over 7,000 parents by Netmums and The Children’s Sleep Charity, 35 per cent described themselves as “regularly sleep deprived and exhausted”, 23 per cent stated that lack of sleep was affecting their wellbeing and mental health and 22 per cent said it impacted on their relationship. I’d like to share my own experience of parenting a sleep thief and pass on what I’ve learned. Initially, things were good. Once we were over the blur of the initial weeks and our wonder at why anyone allowed us be in charge of a tiny, helpless, actual human, James began sleeping five hours straight at night. That plus the discovery of the “side-lying” position for breastfeeding in bed meant that overall, we were coping pretty well. He struggled to fall asleep by himself so there was lots of rocking, but if that was all we had to worry about, we could manage, right? Those five hours were everything. Life, and we, began to feel almost normal. Then, when James was four months old, all hell broke loose. Maybe it was the four-month
MI Spring 2017_Sleep Deprivation.indd 46
sleep regression, maybe his newborn naps on my chest had given him bad habits, or maybe karma was biting me in the bum for my earlier optimism. Whatever the reason (and I’ve long since given up on finding one), it seemed like one day James just stopped sleeping. We tried rocking, singing, co-sleeping, his own cot, swaddling, white noise, silence, a rock-solid bedtime routine. But every night, we battled to get him asleep while he battled to stay awake. Finally he’d nod off and ninja-like, I’d slowly lower him down. But as soon as he hit the mattress his eyes would fly open and he’d begin screaming; horrible, panicked sobs that wracked his entire body until he was picked up. And so the cycle would begin again. And again. Eventually, he’d become so exhausted he could be lowered without waking. I’d creep into bed, peel back the duvet and…“wahhhhh”. Sleep-deprived parents will know that heartsinking moment. We were slowly falling apart. If you’ve experienced those middle of the night wakings, you’ll know how lonely they can be. There were times when we were awake from midnight until 5am, when he closed his eyes only as the sun came up, nights when my husband walked the streets with him in his sling, afternoons when I openly cried as I walked through the park willing him to nap, even for ten minutes. Days and nights rolled into one and all I could talk, think and worry about was sleep. I was so tired I couldn’t think straight. I remember sit-
ting in the car as the lights went green and just blanking. My brain couldn’t function through the fog and it wasn’t until someone beeped that I remembered how to work gears and pedals together. It was torture. And through it all, I had no choice but to keep caring for, and loving, this beautiful and utterly dependent little guy. I never for a moment blamed him, but became pretty skilled at blaming myself. I thought of all the things I should have done
09/02/2017 15:00