Sleep: the light at the end of the tunnel

I guess you could call this a further follow-up to this post and this post.

It was sometime last year that then-18 month old A started sleeping in our bed.  She'd been sick, and it was cold, and we'd bring her into our bed to warm her up/get her back to sleep, before transferring her back to her cot.  The problem was we were so bloody sleep deprived and exhausted, B kept falling asleep before transferring her back to her room.  So then she started to resist going back.  And then one night she screamed such blue bloody murder that she spent the whole night in our bed.

I remember it well.  I also cried that night, cried hard at the fact that her sleep problems seemed to be getting worse, not better.  From waking ten or more times a night, to now sleeping in our bed.  I felt desperate and hopeless.  I had never wanted to share my bed with my kids.  I didn't care what anyone else thought, this was something about which I cared deeply.  I had failed myself.  It was the lowest low.

It went on for months with me seething with resentment.  We talked about getting her back into her own bed.  We took the side off the cot and bought a spare mattress for one of us to sleep on the floor beside her.  She wasn't into it.  Hey, I got it.  Our bed is lovely: big and warm and soft.  I didn't want to leave it either.

We then bought a single bed, got rid of the cot, and moved the single bed into J's room so they could share.  I'd heard from numerous people that sharing a room was the solution to their kids' sleeping issues.  Poor J was so excited to have her little sister share her room... except, of course, A wasn't into it.  She flatly refused to even get in the bed.  J was inconsolable.  Occasionally we could put her in there for a nap if she was very tired.  But that was it.

Meanwhile, she was snuggled between us every night.

She was sleeping through the night, every night.  We all were.  She slept with her little hand on B's shoulder, or with her warm little back resting against mine.  It was... nice.  If she needed us in the middle of the night, we were right there.  We were all getting the most amount of sleep we'd had in the previous two years.  No one was terribly motivated to address the "problem".

And that's when I stopped thinking if it as a problem.  She wanted/needed to be near us in the night.  It was only a problem if we decided it was.  It was all a matter of perspective.  It wouldn't be forever.  It was clear that we both liked having her in there.  Who cared?

Well, as with any parenting choice, apparently a LOT of people did care.  People on whom this had no impact whatsoever made their judgement very clear.  Much as you try not to, of course we took some of it onboard.  That was the hardest part of the whole business, dealing with other people's opinions.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, A suddenly asked to go to bed in her bed, in J's room.  While internally popping the champagne, we tried to remain cool and casual on the surface.  It had been a year since she'd even looked at that bed.  We had no expectations.  She hopped in, snuggled down and grabbed her cuddly lamb.  Everything looked promising.

J, however, was not pleased.  Can you believe it??  Having been inconsolable when A had refused to sleep in her room, now she was inconsolable at the idea that A was sleeping there.  I mean, pass the wine.

So then, as if we had not already played enough musical furniture, we got a trundle bed for A's old room.  I made it up with pretty new sheets, and we waited.  A week or so ago, she started climbing in there at bedtime for a story.  We'd turn out the light and she would toss and turn for a bit while I sat on the armchair nearby, before she'd eventually ask to climb into our bed.  This went on every night.  She was really trying to sleep in her own bed.

Then, last night, exhausted after a day at kindy, we went through the usual routine.  She tossed around for a bit and then fell asleep.  I hardly believed it.

I heard her whimpering once just after I went to bed, went to check on her and she was out of bed.  I helped her back in, half-expecting her to request my bed, but that was it.  Next was her calling out at 6am this morning.

But guess who was sad last night going to bed with no warm little body sleepily cuddling up to me?

After all my turmoil back then about her coming into our bed, now I'm kind of wishing that this isn't the end, yet.

Overpronation: from knee-walking to running

Having just watched her run into kindy, now seems as good a time as any to write this.

This is the story of my overpronating child.

Overpronation is basically the fancy medical name for flat feet, or when your arches collapse excessively.  When it's severe, the ankle also rolls inwards.  I mean, see the photo above.  Does that look right to you?

When we first thought that something might be wrong, I spent a lot of time googling her symptoms.  I found lots of people talking about their kids doing the same kinds of things - refusing to stand, standing on the sides of the feet, "walking" on their knees.  Forum posts and questions written by worried parents were easy to find, but rarely did they come back months or years later to tell what the outcome had been.

I want to record our story from beginning to end.  Of course everyone is different, but this is how it played out for us.

Everything seemed ok until she reached the age where she should have been pulling up and cruising.  She crawled at 11 months but by 15 months, when most of her peers were off and running, she still wasn't able to stand.  She avoided putting weight on her feet, and when she did she ended up standing on the top of her foot with her toes rolled under, or on the inside edge.  The sole of her foot didn't touch the ground at all.  At first I thought it was related to her dislike for different textures - sand, grass, etc.  I thought she didn't want to put her feet flat on the ground.  It took a while to realise that she couldn't.

Eventually she progressed to walking on her knees, and was able to get around quite quickly that way.  It's amazing what you can get used to.  At the time, although privately worrying that something was wrong, we strangely never thought much about the knee walking.  I guess we assumed it would lead to real walking in time.  Now if I happen across a video on my phone of her tearing around the house on her knees, it's a bit shocking.

It looks so wrong.

Over Christmas that year we spent time with family, and my mother-in-law's sister - a nurse - confirmed that yes, something was wrong.  Her ankles were not normal.  Off to the doctor, then a referral to a specialist, a visiting neuro-developmental therapist.

She took her first very wobbly steps the morning of her therapist appointment (of course she did), at all but 18 months of age.  Her feet were turned out like a ballerina's and she walked on the arch of her foot.  She was prescribed ankle-foot orthoses, tiny little pink splints that made me teary just looking at them.



But once we got home and put them on, it was incredible to see the difference.  Her wobbly little ducky gait disappeared instantly.  She loved to wear them and asked for them constantly.

Over the months of wearing the splints her alignment improved, until at her follow-up appointment five months later the therapist said the AFOs were only required intermittently going forward.  Six months after that we were able to hand the splints back.

Now, at two and a half, she's still quite flat-footed and the therapist said she might always be, but her gait and ankle alignment is normal.  She runs everywhere.  She climbs, jumps, and dances.

The story has a happy ending, and we were lucky that the problem was not severe in any case.  I'm forever thankful that that auntie was honest and gave us the prod we needed to stop waiting for things to improve on their own.  Now, the whole saga is already behind us.

And the joyful little girl who can go (almost) everywhere and do (almost) anything she wants will never remember any of it.

Edited to add: when something like this first crops up, you get lots of people saying, "I'm sure it'll be fine" and "she'll figure it out" and "we went through something similar and look at us now".  It's a natural response to want to offer reassurance.  This is one of those cases where it actually wasn't fine and it wasn't going to be ok on its own.  If everyone else is telling you it's probably fine, but your instinct tells you something is wrong, listen to your gut.