Luke update: tentative success?

I'm not sure if we've had real success, or if he was simply exhausted, and I may have just jinxed myself by blogging about it, but I did finally get him to stay in bed starting around 9:30. DH worked with him from about 7:30-9. I took over after that, and it took a bribe and a promise, and as I said, it may have actually been exhaustion that won out, but right now, he's in bed and we'll take it. I told him that if he could stay in bed, close his eyes, and go to sleep, he could open one of the Transformers Mighty Muggs my parents gave him for Christmas. They were sitting on the top shelf in his room, and at some point while trying to get him to stay in bed, he pointed and asked to open one. We weren't saving them for any special reason, we just hadn't opened them yet, so I made the deal: stay in bed and sleep, and you can have one tomorrow.

He did get up again once after that, saying that he was too scared to close his eyes. I went back in his room, tucked him in again, and told him that he didn't have to close his eyes if he didn't want to. He could keep them open as long as he wanted, he just had to stay in bed. Haven't heard a peep since then. His eyes were droopy already when I left him that last time, and I know DH had already told him that very same thing about an hour before then to no avail, so I really think it was just exhaustion overtaking him and not anything really that I said. But regardless, he's been in bed for nearly an hour now. I desperately want to go check on him, but I am not about to wake him accidentally! I am, however, fully expecting him to wake up sometime in the night and be scared again. Baby steps, though. If we can get him to sleep in there, even a little, for the next few nights, I hope he will eventually get back to being okay with bedtime.

Thanks for listening. I'm sure there will be more to come.

Currently feeling: going to attempt to sleep some myself

A suspect emerges

Luke is still terrified of his room. Even with the full on 8 AM sun streaming through his bedroom window, he did *not* want to be in his room this morning. At. All. He went in with me long enough to grab a shirt, but he begged to be allowed to change clothes somewhere else. I left his door open, hoping that watching the kitties going in and out would help the fear subside. Instead, it almost seemed to make him more aggitated. "No, don't go in there, Cleo. There's nightmares in there!" (He picked that up from DH last night, who was convinced that it was a nightmare, even though I didn't think he'd had time to go back to sleep.)

As things have unfolded this evening, we may have finally discovered what really happened. As we were working through all of Luke's objections at bedtime, it suddenly came out that a cat may have been in his room. I don't think Luke was hiding that information or holding it back, I think he didn't realize it until he was "talking through" what happened. "But I saw it! I saw the hatch open, and then Bengal jumped on my bed." Ah-ha! As I mentioned in my previous post, Luke had come into our bedroom just before 3 AM to ask if it was time to get up (um, no). Knowing Luke, he probably left his bedroom door open, and being the Fluff of Opportunity that he is, Bengal likely took that as an invitation and waltzed right in.

I highly doubt that Luke had time to actually fall asleep enough to dream in the time that lapsed between tucking him back in bed and the screaming. That has been the most baffling thing about this whole ordeal. It was less than 5 minutes, and he takes after me in that respect (takes me forever go to back to sleep, too). Here is what we have surmised: either he was still awake, or he was just starting to drop off when Bengal decided he needed to look out the window. Imagine if you will: you are a 5-year-old child in a dark room that you've only lived in for a month, lit by a single night light, and you see the floor length wooden blinds to your left pulling away from the window all by themselves, with you laying in bed not 3 feet away, followed by a bang as the blinds slam back down against the window and a giant dark thing that you can't really see jumps on your bed. I know the thought gives grown-up me the willies; as a child, I'd have been screaming bloody murder, too. I can only imagine what it was like for Luke.

Now, knowing all of this (and putting a lamp with a low watt bulb on his chest of drawers) has helped him be in his room and lay in the bed without being as afraid. But as soon as DH or I leave the room (with the lamp still on!), he is petrified again. I am trying so hard to do what is right for him, but I have warring parental instincts right now. Part of me says we should stay in the room with him, but that is not a precedent I care to set. How many nights will it take for us to ever leave the room if we start that? But would that be faster/better than the constant up and down that we are having so far tonight? (We're at the 80 minute mark at the moment.) I don't think one night of successful sleeping in the room will cure it. It is going to take several nights for the fear to recede, and even longer for it to disappear completely (if it ever does). But is staying with him just validating that fear, telling him on some level that there is something to be afraid of because we wouldn't be staying if there weren't. I have no idea what the right thing to do is.

More than anything, I hate that even though I have experienced such feelings myself, I have no way to help him. Honestly, I never really got over it, I just learned to cope, to live with it. I had a bunch of stuffed animals, sometimes a flashlight, and occasionally resorted to sleeping with the room light on (once a year or so even now, as a married adult in my 30s, I still have an occasional "bathroom light on" night). DH is somewhat frustrated that telling him that it's not real and it can't hurt him is not helping. I know it won't help! But you still have to say it, over and over and over. The only things that got me through many a frightening night as a kid was squeezing my "friends" to death and chanting "it's not real, there's nothing to be afraid of." It didn't really make me any less afraid, but it gave me just enough of a grip on reality that I could stay in my bed until I was just too tired to stay awake anymore. But all of mine were either dreams or something frightening I had seen on television (or read in a book), and I always had that to fall back on. "It was just a dream. It's not real. It was just a television show, it was just a book, it's not real."

Luke's experience was not a dream. It *was* real, and he *was* awake, which isn't helping. Having a rational explanation after the fact is not doing any good at all. "Bengal was being silly. He just wanted to look out the window. He didn't mean to scare you. We'll make sure Bengal is out with us and that your door is closed tight so he can't get in. You're fine! There's nothing to be afraid of. It was just Bengal."

Nothing but empty words to a terrified child. I feel so helpless.

Currently feeling: miserable

Terror in the Night

Time required to go from in bed dozing but not asleep at 3 AM when the child start screaming hysterically, to finding the child petrified but physically unhurt in the hall: 5 seconds

Number of distinct scenarios this mother can imagine in those 5 seconds, ranging from mundane to absurd to horrific: 6 (along with about 50 refrains of "oh my god, please be okay")

I am quite sure those were the longest 5 seconds of my life. I'm still shaking from the adrenaline buzz, and highly doubt that I (or the child) will be getting any more sleep tonight. He is convinced that there is some purple thing coming through his bedroom window. Neither DH nor I can see anything new that hasn't been there for the month we've lived there. No new lights, nothing unusual outside. DH even laid down on the bed with the lights off to see if he could figure out what happened.

Luke had been up just a few minutes before asking if it was time to get up, so he could not have been asleep very long, if at all. But there is no faking the visceral terror he clearly feels at the thought of going back in his room without the lights. We could get him back in bed, but once I turned the light off (he has a nightlight, same one he's always had in the same place he's always been), even with both DH and me in the room with him, the thought of laying down again in his bed was too much and he physically pushed off DH who was trying to hug him and calm him so that he could leave his room and go out into the hall.

Despite clearly remembering being scared like that, both as a child and an adult, I have absolutely no idea how to help him. I, at least, now have DH to huddle up with in bed, but having Luke sleep in our room (which was his request) is not a precedent we care to set. He and DH are tucked in the den right now with the lights dimmed. I'm trying not to add any additional unusual elements to the environment by sniffing every 2-3 minutes, so I'm back in our bedroom (wide awake now, of course). It's been about 45 minutes since I tucked them in, and I've heard Luke fussing every 5-10 minutes, which is probably about how long it takes him to start dozing off. I can hear the fear in his little voice all the way down the hall, even if I can't make out his actual words. Clearly, he is still "seeing" whatever it is whenever he closes his eyes, and I can completely sympathize (the movie SE7EN, anyone?). I see many long nights ahead.

Part of me feels like this is my fault. DH almost never remembers his dreams, maybe once a year at most. I'm the one who has nightmares like that, and I'm the one who, when being perfectly honest with myself, is still more than a tiny bit afraid of the dark. Another part of me simply cannot shake the feeling that there could have been something (someone?) out there. At least at the old house, there was no chance of someone being outside his 2nd story window, but here? It is possible. I find that to be the most fundamentally disturbing aspect of this whole ordeal. I may sleep with the light on myself tonight.

Currently feeling: exhausted

Move Along, Mr. Cough

Okay Mr. Cough, I've had enough from you. I've put up with you and Sniffle Nose for 3 days now, but once you started trying to corrupt Lungs and Right Eardrum this morning (which would only lead to them inviting Bronchitis and Ear Infection to the party), I called in the big guns. I have Antibiotics & I will use them! Move along now.

Currently feeling: unwell

Merry Christmas 2009

To those who celebrate it, I wish you the Most Merry of Christmases.

And to each and every one of you, I wish you nothing but love and peace for the coming year.

Currently feeling: treasuring the gift of family and friends

Anyone need a house?

We have a great 3-bedroom 2.5-bath starter house (finally!) officially on the market in metro Atlanta! Anyone interested?



Currently feeling: hoping for a quick sale

Transfiguration: A Conversation with Luke

It took me a brief moment to figure out what on earth he meant, and then I couldn't stop laughing.

Luke: I have a callapiller (sic) at my [imaginary] home. He will turn into a raccoon and then be a butterfly.

Currently feeling: still giggling