So far, it’s only happened once. Once was enough. But it could well be an ongoing thing. At the time I had no idea what was going on. It was 3am. Ordinarily when Riley wakes up in the night she just trundles her way into our room, has a little help to get into our bed, snuggles up next to me, insists that I tuck her in nicely under the ‘noo-noo’ (doona) and nestles her way back to sleep. But on this night I could hear her crying and she was still in her room. That was odd.
I tried picking her up. A couple of times. Each time resulted in what seemed to be an unbridled, full-blown temper tantrum. Beyond the normal tantrum. Head banging, thrashing, don’t touch me tantrum. That was scary. Riley is a toddler who loves to be held and cuddled. Regardless of whether she’s mid-tantrum, mid-play or mid-sleep. She’s been that way since a baby. She was a cuddly baby – her favourite place to sleep was on my chest. She’s a cuddly toddler – she likes the tackle cuddle – running at pace towards my open arms, she likes sleeping cuddles and belly rubs when she’s going of to sleep, she likes story cuddles when we’re relaxing on the couch and she still likes to sleep on my chest from time to time. So this was unknown territory.
I took her into the kitchen to get her some milk. She starting slamming the fridge door, then dropped to the ground, pivoted around with her feet for some more thrashing and started banging her head on the kitchen floor. Josh came in to check on the commotion and either because enough time had passed or because his voice is louder she seemed to come out of it all of a sudden and wrapped her arms around my neck, ready to be taken into bed. It was over, finally. And once she was back in bed with us, she went into a deep sleep and didn’t even wake up when I went to work.
It was only in the morning that I connected the dots that she hadn’t really been awake. She’d been stuck between wake and sleep, in some kind of nightmare. And it was only later that my twitter family informed me that it had a name, and that it was surprisingly common.
She seemed fine the next day. I was a little shaken up. It’s never pleasant to feel helpless, particularly as a parent. I’m not sure what our approach will be the next time. I think, for her, the best thing is just to be there next to her and not try to wake her up, but I just don’t know yet. Maybe a gentle waking wold work just as well. As with anything, trial and error is probably the only way to go. I just know I would be quite happy if I never had to experience her thrashing her head around on the kitchen floor like that, ever again. I also know that most fear is in the unknowable – next time won’t be nearly as scary.
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My name is Zoey. 






























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