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Screamer and the blessing of motherhood
By ella | August 17, 2007
Ben, a busy, busy nineteen-month-old, has become a screamer.
I sort of remember his older brothers going through a similar phase and being similarly fed up with it, but this time it feels like a pick-axe through the brain. Did it feel like that last time? I can’t remember. That’s the blessing of motherhood: you forget the really crap parts. Because otherwise none of us would ever have more than one child and the human race would go the way of my brain: long gone.
I do what goes against every grain in my body and ignore his screaming because I know it’s the only way to bring this phase to a short, sharp end. But there’s a lot of counting to ten. Also, I’ve bought some earplugs and I’m not afraid to use them. Just must remember to take them out if someone comes to the door.
But it’s the nightime screaming, bolt upright, demanding immediate attention for nothing in particular - not nightmares, not teething, just because - that really gets me. I am defibrillated off the bed, heart pounding, skin prickling with fear, because, because what? Because he feels like having a little scream at three o’clock in the morning.
And I can’t ignore it because it’s a primeval reaction: my baby’s being eaten by a dinosaur! Must protect! But then I see him looking at me: ‘Mama!’ he exclaims, absolutely amazed to see me at this time of night. And then he screams again. And smiles. Look what I can do!
Back in bed I steady my adrenalin-fuelled body and lie awake. For a long time. When I go back to sleep I dream of him being carted off by a dinosaur. Is it a nightmare or a blissful dream? After his behaviour, I’m not so sure. But that’s also the blessing of motherhood: by the morning my brain makes sure I can’t remember.
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Categories: Babies
I used to dream that I wanted to throw mine out the window when they screamed or cried all night. But I’m right with you in saying that you can’t remember your reactions to those awful times. You have my sympathies!
Aaah, not remembering… it is indeed the only way that motherhood is survivable.