Place of Safety

I had a heavy but enlightening moment tonight as I sat at my daughter’s bedside drawing nondescript designs on her back with my fingers and singing softly to help her and big brother drift off to sleep. She has never been a very good sleeper and it has become more clear lately that she struggles quite a bit with various fears once the lights go out. Despite her obvious and nearly constant exhaustion, she simply does not ever want to go to sleep and bedtime is becoming more of a battle as time passes.

Tonight as I sat at the side of her bed, a thought came creeping into my quiet mind. It was simply this:

“The things she fears now may not be real to you, but they are to her. If you brush them off today, how will she ever feel safe coming to you with the overwhelming fears that life throws at her later?”

Cue grief and an overwhelming desire to recover so many lost opportunities for offering comfort and assurance.

It’s so easy at the end of the day to want to discredit their fears or needs as childish efforts to simply delay bedtime and stay up longer. I don’t know what her particular fears are—she hasn’t been able to express that entirely yet—but I have grown accustomed to her pleas for my reassuring presence at her bedside as she tells me, “Is so scary in my room, Mommy.”

The rational side of me wants to explain away her fears with logic and discredit them entirely. I have also been guilty of threatening the loss of privileges if anyone gets out of bed again... It can just be so frustrating when I know all too well how quickly my little ones can fall asleep if they will just still their busy bodies, be silent, and close their heavy eyes. On most occasions, however, they simply don't do just that.

In my longing for some alone time at the end of the day, the unfortunate truth is that I am quick to brush off the concerns of little minds too easily and too frequently. But I hope to be more in tune with my babies, even at the end of the longest and hardest of our days and continue to remember tonight's gentle nudging.

More often than not, the added time of sitting with them while they slip away to dreaming is such a small piece of my day to offer up in exchange for letting them know that I will always be that place of safety when they need me.