Things that Terrify Me about Impending Parenthood

We are in the final countdown to foster/adoption, and I expect that we'll begin our first placement in the next 4-6 weeks.

OMG, that's not right at all. It was 4-6 weeks from the beginning of the year, which means...quick mental calculation...oh crap...I suppose we could have a placement as soon as 2 weeks from now.

*suppressing anxiety attack*

As we get closer to our placement, I'm getting more disjointed--feeling absurd amounts of excitement and terror, often in repeating cycles that do nothing for my sleep habits. I've been doing a ton of reading on parenting, specifically about the special needs that traumatized, abused, and neglected kids will have, and it's made me realize just how much of an uphill battle this is going to be. So in the spirit of "naming the fear to master it", here is my current list of things that terrify me about impending parenthood.

Chronic Lack of Sleep

You know that they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture, right? And for very good reason.

Also: I generally get 10 hours of sleep a night. As did Einstein, so don't judge.

I am terrified about the lack of sleep that comes with parenting (especially kids that may have nightmares or be too scared to sleep for months after transitioning to a new home) and what that will do to my parenting capabilities.

So much of effective parenting of hurt children (or so all the experts tell me) is to be patience and curious and empathetic--to be in the moment and and ride out the wave of emotions and behaviors that the kids express. 

To be able to give that kind of 1-on-1 attention and fully devote each moment to really "being there" is emotionally and physically exhausting. Even if you're getting a normal amount of sleep. How am I going to do it when I'm totally sleep deprived?

And Now...An Anecdote

When Bill and I had been dating for about two months, we adopted Maya.

She was 13 weeks old, with big floppy ears. We called her our "love child". I'd never had a puppy before, and didn't realize that she was very, very sick. Bill left the next day for a week-long trip, and suddenly I was responsible for this puppy. Who didn't play, or jump around, or chase the variety of toys we had purchased. She really didn't do anything but lay on a towel in the corner of the kitchen while I nervously paced the floor.

I thought that maybe she was just getting settled in, maybe she was just nervous. And then the second day came and went, and she STILL hadn't eaten anything or so much as sniffed at the water bowl. 

And, she was getting progressively snottier. So in addition to taking her outside four times a night for the second night in a row, now I was laying awake worried that she was dying. (Incidentally, because of Bill's townhouse set-up, "taking her outside" meant getting dressed, putting Maya on a leash, walking down the sidewalk and across the street to the nearest patch of grass. It was not a convenient process.)

By day three I was totally panicked, and rushed her to the vet (getting a speeding ticket on the way, which I managed to talk my way out of by being in near tears with worry about this pathetic little creature laying on the floor of the passenger seat). 

They diagnosed her with a terrible case of kennel cough, and said that she might need to be admitted to the vet hospital for an IV. While they took her in back to inject a bag of plasma into her side (to try and rehydrate her) I placed a near-hysterical call to Bill's voicemail.

The vet told me that if I couldn't get Maya to drink some water and eat a little bit of food, that she would have to be admitted. They gave me a syringe that I could use to squirt some water into her mouth, and some "extra delicious" food to tempt her with.

So I drove back home and spend the next 16 hours painstakingly dribbling water in her mouth and hand-feeding her morsels of food. I'm pretty sure that I spent most of the time leaking tears. It was not the "new puppy" experience that I had anticipated, and I felt an incredible weight of responsibility.

By the fourth morning (again, taking her out at least 4 times each night), Maya had turned the corner and was showing some signs of life. A few days later, she was actually exploring the house, peeing on everything, and traumatizing the cats. (Exhausting in another kind of way.)

When Bill came home, I picked him up at the airport and was so happy and overwhelmed and sleep deprived that I burst into tears when he got in the car. And I kept crying sporadically through the rest of the evening. (I'm sure he was thinking that he had made a terrible mistake in committing to a new puppy with a girl he hardly knew...)

Of course, after that week things progressively got better. That summer, we had such a good time celebrating our relationship and this wonderful little ball of fur. Teaching her to swim in the backyard pond, watching her gain a confidence, seeing that happy little tail wagging -- it totally made all of that stress worthwhile.

Where Was I?

Oh right. Parenthood.

Essentially, this is what I'm expecting parenthood to be. A horrible, sleep-deprived, stressful period followed by something richly rewarding. 

What scares me, though, is not knowing how long that transition period will last. I was crazy and unstable within the first four days. How on earth will I cope with weeks and months of bumpy uncertainty? 

How on earth am I going to get enough sleep? And without enough sleep, how am I going to stay sane? And if I'm not calm and collected, how will my kids ever feel safe enough to bond with us? And the longer that they don't bond with us, the longer the situation will last, and the longer that I won't get enough sleep. And the cycle will rage on until I collapse in a fetal position and need intensive in-patient treatment (e.g. three months of comatose recovery)?

Anyway...

I had originally thought I would list several things that terrify me about impending parenthood. But apparently, I've spend WAY more time than necessary dealing with just the sleep issue. So maybe I'll leave it here for now. And go take a nap.

Comments

[Fliven]

Given that my nightly sleep allotment has gone from 10 hours (before marriage and puppies) to now 7 if I'm lucky, I am also dreading the childrens for this reason. If, after the fostering begins, you find a magic formula for managing both, please share! :)