Today marks the start of the fourth week of my 2-year-old’s steadfast refusal to sleep. Initially, bedtime goes smoothly, but a few hours in, he wakes up screaming and crying. This often leads to my own tears of frustration and exhaustion, a reaction I never anticipated.
I’ve come to understand why sleep deprivation is considered a form of torture—my mind and body seem to be operating at less than half capacity on just a few hours of disrupted sleep over a 10-hour span. Constantly waking to a child who is overtired yet unwilling to sleep, and who demands food but refuses to eat, has tested my patience to its limits, revealing a level of challenge I didn’t expect.
During these exhausting weeks, I’ve realized just how emotionally vulnerable I become when deprived of rest, a situation compounded by my current pregnancy. The helplessness that arises when I cannot console my child often morphs into despair after countless unsuccessful attempts at soothing him.
Before becoming a parent, I believed I had a solid understanding of the challenges ahead. I had experience babysitting and even raising my teenage niece for a year after her father’s passing. I thought the teenage years would be the most difficult, filled with hormones and drama. Little did I know, the real trials would be sleepless nights, daily negotiations over meals (as a first-time parent, I’m still learning to navigate my child’s dietary whims), and the never-ending cycle of messes and potty training.
I’ve shed more tears into my coffee cup and kitchen cabinets than I care to admit after failed attempts at getting my child to listen, eat, or simply tidy up. I’ve tried reasoning and bargaining—“You can watch your favorite show after breakfast”—to no avail. We’ve experimented with co-sleeping, sleep training, blackout curtains, essential oils, and every trendy piece of advice available online. Yet, no solution seems to have lasting effects, and the fleeting moments of success are often overshadowed by a return to emotional turmoil.
Parenting is undeniably challenging, and the struggle is magnified when sleep is scarce. I typically approach each day with optimism and resilience, but lately, I feel like each day drains me, leaving me overwhelmed. Frustration often feels unavoidable, and I find myself feeling just as much like a child as the one I’m trying to guide. Maintaining patience and composure while choosing love over anger has proven to be one of the toughest aspects of parenthood.
I used to believe that my adult experiences had prepared me for this emotional rollercoaster. After all, I’ve managed to handle situations with grown men who often behaved childishly. But this is different; the persistent power struggles and boundary testing are significantly more challenging when the other party cannot articulate their needs, leaving me guessing their preferences from day to day.
The toll of emotional exhaustion manifests in various ways: tears, pleading, mismatched clothing, neglecting personal care, and subsisting on cold leftovers and caffeine. I’ve come to understand why some might look at me with concern, as I often struggle to find time for a simple shower without my child turning it into a playtime event.
Yet, amidst the chaos, there are precious moments. I’m greeted with warm hugs and sloppy kisses, and I’m constantly reminded of my child’s love. It’s hard to see through the exhaustion, but those fleeting moments of joy make it all worthwhile. When I see the light in my child’s eyes as they play or plead for just a few more moments of attention, I realize that the hard work is indeed rewarding.
I have a built-in source of entertainment that reminds me of the beauty of creativity and love, and I wouldn’t trade this adventure for anything. We’re just beginning our journey in parenthood, and I know there are many challenges ahead. However, the joy of seeing my child’s face light up when I walk through the door is enough to mitigate the emotional fatigue.
To all the weary moms and dads out there: keep pushing through. You’re doing your best. Remember, “All you can do is all you can do, and all you can do is enough.”
Love,
One exhausted mama