Lessons from the Middle of the Night

“Babe. Wake up.” I shook my husband’s shoulder as he lay sleeping peacefully. “JAKE! Seriously! Get up! We have a gas leak!”

I was sitting straight up in bed staring at the ceiling and walls of our bedroom as they swirled before my eyes. My husband finally rolled over, still half asleep, and looked at me with concern. “Ashley. We don’t even have gas. You’re hallucinating.”

Hmm. That might explain the purple bunny I thought I saw hopping down the hall.

I was five weeks into my second round of motherhood and apparently not handling the sleep deprivation especially well. The two-year-old and the baby seemed to work together as a team to keep us hopping all night. Hooray for sibling bonding!

Fast-forward through seven years of glorious sleep, and despite not growing the third arm I was convinced was necessary for a third baby, we have a precious new lamb. She is nine months old and a firm believer that sleep is for slackers. So while my husband is working night shifts at the hospital, I’m working the night shift at home. Despite the occasional vibrating eyeballs, there have (mercifully) been no more hallucinations.

With or without purple bunnies, I have been learning quite a bit during these countless sleepless nights.

 In my weakness, he is strong.

Even when people surround you, it’s easy to feel lonely. We live on a cul-de-sac in a neighborhood full of kids. There is always some kind of action spilling out from the houses into the yards and street. In the middle of the night, when I’m pacing the floor with the baby, it feels like I’m the only one left on the entire planet. This can be a battleground of sorts. In the solitude of 3 a.m., the whispered lies of the enemy can be deafening: I’m not doing it right and I’m not good enough at anything and I’m definitely not mom enough. It takes some practice to listen for the Voice of Truth. I don’t have to be enough. He is enough to cover all my imperfections.

His mercies are new every morning.

My children have taught me more about mercy than I ever expected. The fact is, I am not a morning person. Even with a great night’s sleep, I need time to warm up in the morning before people expect me to do hard things like talk or listen. So when I haven’t slept for more than forty-five minutes at a time for a few days in a row? It’s not pretty, especially on the mornings when I need to pry my well-rested older kids out of their beauty sleep for school. There is wailing and gnashing of teeth (and that’s just me). Once we’re all in the van, the guilt is crushing. I apologize to them and ask forgiveness for the Momzilla who took over my body. I’m always blown away by how quickly they are ready to forgive me and start fresh. Their mercy reminds me of the Lord’s mercies and how much he has forgiven me. Truly, it is a gift to be able to start fresh.

Even after the longest and darkest night, the sun will rise.

The darkest hours seem to multiply into an eternity, and I wonder if the sun will ever rise again. On those nights when I’ve seen the hands of the clock hit every number on the dial, it begins to feel like time is standing still. When the first gray light of dawn chases the shadows away and I know my chance for rest has passed, it’s strangely relieving. The element of suspense is over and I have my answer: not tonight. I’m reminded of the times in my life when I’ve faced one challenge or another. The dark hours of those days seemed to stretch on forever and I wondered if they would ever be over. Even if after weeks or months of prayer, the answer isn’t what I hoped but instead, “not tonight,” I find myself relieved. The suspense is over and I have the certainty of the sunrise. There is an element of risk in hope.

So mamas of littles, hang in there. This sleepless season might seem like an eternity, but it will soon pass and we will rest again.

Ashley Doyle Pooser is a wife and a mom of three. She recently moved to Atlanta, where she’s trying her best to be a responsible adult but feels like she’s mostly flying by the seat of her pants. She blogs at ashleydoylepooser.com.