“Go the #*@! to sleep…”

 

Shared by Breanne Smedley

Brett and I left on a road trip for Spokane yesterday to visit his parents for the first part of Spring Break.

We had the car jam-packed with everything one could need for a three-day trip with a 1-year old.

Snacks, toys, books. 
Enough clothes to recover from any blowouts or messy meals.

We decided to make the drive later, expecting that Charlee would be sleeping for most of it.

We’ve taken multiple long car rides with her. 
We know the tricks. 
In fact, by now, we’ve considered ourselves experienced in baby car travel.

I was actually looking forward to the 6-hour car ride to catch up with Brett.
Knock out some reading.
Do a little writing.

I quickly saw those plans diminish a couple hours into the trip.

It was now past 7pm, time for Charlee to lull herself into a deep sleep for the next 4 hours of the ride.

She was fed.
She was in her cozy PJs.
She had her teddy and binky.

The perfect recipe for sleep.

But, Charlee wasn’t having it.

She started crying and arching her back to get herself out of the car seat straps.

Pushed away her blankets and teddy.

“I think she’s just fighting it,” we told each other.

A few more minutes and she’ll be out.

An hour later, the crying continued.

We started to go through the checklist:

Is she getting sick? Teething? Poopy diaper? Hungry?

I climbed from the backseat to the front seat. Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t see me?

Nope.

We pulled over and checked for everything.

All clear.

Back in the car seat, 2 hours left to Spokane.

Finally, some silence. She had dozed off.

Brett and I were afraid to breathe, for fear that any noise we make may wake her.

We sat in silence, staring ahead.

A couple minutes later, she broke the silence and started again.

And the cycle continued all the way to Spokane.

Silence. 
Relief. 
Fear to talk or move. 
Crying starts again. 
Frustration ensues.

“GO THE F*@# to SLEEP CHARLEE!” I almost say out loud.

It’s amazing what 4 hours of listening to a crying baby can bring out in you. 
And not amazing in a good way.

Blood pressure rises. 
I can feel anger welling up. 
Brett and I start snapping at each other.

“WHY are you turning on the radio? That’s NOT going to help!”

“Well, NOTHING ELSE IS HELPING!”

Logically, I know that this is the only way that Charlee can communicate. 
Logically, I know that she is beyond tired and just wants to sleep in her familiar place.

But logic seems to go out the window when a baby is crying at the top of her lungs.

We thought we had it figured out. 
We had a plan.

But, such is life!

Charlee is our constant reminder that we never have anything “figured out.”

Making us resilient, helping us grow, and keeping us humble.

She woke up this morning with her usual happy smile and loud “Hiiiiiii!!” to the world.

Another reminder that no matter how bad the night was, there is always a promise of a new day.

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#DaringlyResilient

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