These are the nights I hate.
The cries sometimes erupt sharply from her room. Other times they are soft at first, growing to a fever pitch. Heaving sobs come between high-pitched whines. I wonder at first if she’s scared or in pain or both as I rush up to her room.
Tonight it’s sharp cries. I find Cordy on the floor beside her bed, curled in the fetal position with her arm over her head, trying to block out some unseen attack. I ask her what’s wrong, but as usual I get answers that are vague or make no sense.
I ask why she’s upset and she says she doesn’t know. I ask if her belly hurts, and she says it does. I ask if her foot hurts and she says it does. I doubt she really hurts – instead she is letting my questions lead her to find the answer she doesn’t know. Anything I ask she answers yes.
Her eyes are open wide, pupils large and black. She is awake yet most of the time sees right through me. She begins to cry out that she misses her grandma, and I remind her that she’ll see grandma in a few days. She then says she misses mommy, and I look closer into her eyes and tell her I’m right there. I shift my weight slightly and she interprets this as a sign of retreat, begging me to stay because she is scared.
“What are you scared of?” I ask.
“I don’t know…the dark.”
“But your light is on. It’s not dark in here.”
“I’m scared of the dark when I close my eyes.”
As a toddler Cordy suffered from night terrors. She would wake suddenly, screaming and thrashing as if she was being assaulted. We tried to comfort her, but any attempt to interact made her scream even louder. She didn’t recognize us or her surroundings. 15-20 minutes later, she would eventually start to calm and slowly become aware of our presence, dazed and clinging to us for comfort.
We had a long period where there were no nightmares or night terrors. Cordy has never slept through the night since she turned three, but she rarely needs us when she wakes. She usually goes to bed around 7pm (her choice), then wakes sometime between 11pm-1am, spending up to an hour quoting some TV scene to herself over and over, running back and forth in her room, or collecting carpet fuzz in one of her play kitchen pots. She eventually settles down without any intervention from us. Sometimes she has another awake period around 3am, and by 6am she is up for the day.
But over the past few weeks, the night-time crying has come back. She may be four years old, but her comprehension of nightmares is closer to that of a two year old. She can’t comprehend it – she only knows that she’s suddenly awake and scared of something she can’t describe. It’s not a night terror, because she’s awake and aware of us, but she can’t accept our explanations. No matter how we try to explain that it wasn’t real, she doesn’t believe us. Her inner world and the outside world are blurred together in that moment.
It’s very possible that these nightmares are her way of trying to process the outside world that encroaches on her internal world more each day. Her inner world is a predictable place, filled with routine and repetition and patterns. She retreats to it whenever she feels threatened. Our world is chaotic to her, frightening and confusing and filled with new experiences and sensations. When she’s had too much, she retreats inward to her scripts and her repetitive motions.
Cordy has made incredible progress combating autism. She’s brave, she’s strong-willed, and she wants to please us so much. I feel so proud of her accomplishments, and I take some pride in how well we’ve fought to get her to this point. She has her good days and bad days, of course. She talks back to us now, full of attitude that she learned from her classmates, and while it’s frustrating we laugh and remind each other it’s a sign of progress. She’s acting like a “typical” four year old with each huff and foot stomp.
But on these nights, when I cradle my scared, no-longer-small four year old with the wide, vacant eyes and grasp for ways to make her fears go away, unable to promise that the darkness won’t be there when she closes her eyes, I feel just as lost as she does. And I can only hope that the morning sun will vanquish the darkness and bring her some peace, even if only for another day.
Oh how horrible, I know you must feel just helpless when watching here when these happen. My daughter who is now 8 used to suffer from night terrors, it was really hard on me, wanting to console her and be there for her only for my wanting to hold her making it worse. Does she maybe have a special blanket or stuff animal that she loves that could comfort her in the night??
I understand completely. My three-year-old son has night terrors at least two or three times a week. He will scream for up to a half an hour and is completely inconsolable and either won’t or can’t talk to us.. then he will slowly calm down and drop back off to sleep. In the morning, he has no idea what happened.
I don’t have any words of advice.. but just know that there is someone out there probably dealing with the exact same thing each night when you are. It’s rough.
Oh my heart is breaking for you all. I can’t imagine the struggles that you all face every day. Squeaks had night terrors for awhile and I know how scary they can be. It’s hard when they can’t comprehend what’s going on. Hugs to you and Cordy, both. I’m hoping for leaps and bounds.
We went through this recently w/our 4 year old. She would wake crying, hysterical, unable to tell us what was wrong. It may sound odd but we started carrying her to the bathroom and sat her on the potty. She would go and then start to calm down. I don’t know if some of this was triggered by waking and having to pee. But it usually worked for us. This went on for MONTHS but I think we may finally be over the hump (and with that I just jinxed it).
Oh, I hate those… 🙁 Their imaginations are SO vivid… I know that I STILL suffer from dreams so real that I cannot go back to sleep, and even end up sobbing by myself in the middle of the night. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must be to be a child and not truly have the wherewithal to understand that reality and imagination are NOT the same.
Hope these episodes pass. For the BOTH of you!
I am sorry Cordy is going through this, and you for that matter! I don’t have any advise for you, but please know I am thinking of you all!
Oh that’s rough! I can’t tell you that they’ll go away (I’ve had night terrors on and off my whole life and I’m 28 now.) BUT I can tell you that while it might take some time, she will learn to deal with them in her own way.
Maybe she could draw you a picture of what’s wrong?
Hang in there.
It always sucks when your kid is upset, but that sounds especially horrible. Hope there are peaceful sleeps ahead.
That sounds so horrible. I’m so sorry for her and for you. I hope she soon “gets” what is frightening her in a way that lets her get beyond the scare.
The Poo has terrible, vivid nightmares. Sometimes it is hard to wake her up; it’s like she is living them.
It’s hard, but what you are dealing with sounds a lot harder. I am so sorry.
Wishing you both restful nights.
Oh that’s rough. That must be so frightening for you and Cordy both. And not to mention all the interrupted sleep can’t help. Any comfort things she brings to bed?
My son was 17 when he died 17 years ago in a car crash he had night terrors and to this moment I still feel the frustration and fear it gave me. Because your right there was nothing you could say or do for them. Sometimes he would tell me there was a rock however he didn’t know what the rock meant.
So you have my thoughts and prayers which is all we can offer.
When we love our children we want to make everything better and its horrible that often we can’t.
Dorothy from grammology
grammology.com
My son Trevor used to have night terrors nearly every night but thankfully seems to have outgrown them, for the most part. He still has them every couple of months or so but they’re not nearly as severe. I used to end up in tears because it felt like my poor boy was just…not in there. Scary stuff! I always wondered if they went hand in hand with his Asperger’s Syndrome.
Nikki