Every Picture Tells A Story

Every picture tells a story.

You see two sisters, fast asleep, holding hands. A photo to treasure through the no-doubt hormone-strewn years ahead.

I see photographic evidence of an entire months worth of sleep deprivation.

We have had house guests for six weeks.

When you put it like that, it sounds like I should be chewing Prozac like M&Ms, but it's not been that bad. Until Anna had a nightmare that is.

Anna had given up her bedroom for my Mum and Dad. They stayed over Christmas, and then a few days in to January, LK's Mom arrived, escaping the snow-covered north. Anna was more than happy to give up her room in exchange for the attention of people who genuinely wanted to play with her. We had Lucy in bed with us, and Anna was sleeping in Lucy's toddler bed. All was well with the world.

Then around midnight one evening, Anna came stumbling in crying, having had a nightmare in Lucy's bed. To her, the nightmare was entirely situational. If she went back to sleeping in Lucy's bed, the nightmare would return, so she didn't want to go back there. We tried the tactic of leaving the light slightly on, flipping her pillow over to 'squash' the nightmare, everything, but nothing worked. She only wanted to sleep with us. In our Queen-sized bed, with her two year-old sister.

We've tried popping her back in Lucy's bed once she falls asleep with, but she always wakes up crying and climbs in with us. The nightmares seem to be new too. Maybe they're because she's feeling displaced, having 'lost' her room for a few weeks, or maybe, sadly, she's inherited LK's tendency to nightmares. I hope not. She's even started asking to hold my hair again - her toddler 'comfort blanket'. It's as if she's lost the ability to self-soothe.

As it is, we're all squashed together like chuffing sardines, all waking up at the slightest moan, cry, rustle, or fart. There just isn't the real estate for us all to sleep comfortably, it's like trying to fall asleep holding a yoga pose.

It has been a nightmare. I am so tired, I think I'm re-experiencing the newborn stage all over again. The other night Lucy was crying out in her sleep 'boobie, boobie' and I was so exhausted, and so reluctant to wake up that I just fished around for her hand and put it on my boob to stop her crying.

And then I realized it was actually Anna's hand I'd grabbed. Anna who was fast asleep, thankfully.

I really hope this stops when Anna gets her room back.