Sometimes I wonder if we will have a normal night of sleep, ever again.  It certainly doesn’t feel like it.  I’m sitting outside the door of Josiah’s room, waiting for sleep to come.  It’s 3:22 am. Though I hear him yawn more than once, I know it could be quite a long time yet before Josiah settles down to sleep.

The late night hours seem to energize him some how.  We joke that he’s nocturnal. Sitting in the quiet stillness of the dark and listening to his frenzied activity, I almost believe it.  Josiah’s energy level greatly increases as the sun goes down. It’s as if he is unable to calm himself down enough to sleep.  Instead of winding down, his body revs up.

Rick stayed with Josiah for the first part of the evening. He made a valiant effort to ensure Josiah was down for the night. I slept peacefully those first few hours, unaware of the noise and commotion in Josiah’s room. But then, much too soon, it was my turn.  I heard Rick slip into our room.  I felt Josiah climb up over me a few minutes later and I knew. No words were spoken. I just knew.  It was my shift.

I took Josiah by the hand and lead him back to his room. I snuggled up beside him. I sang to him.  I talked to him.  I prayed for him.  In an attempt to stay awake, I watched an hour long episode of a favorite show on my phone, hoping somehow it would distract Josiah and eventually calm him.

All, to no avail.

Josiah is wired. He has no interest in sleep. And so, I leave the room. I position myself on guard just outside his door, waiting and hoping for him to settle down. Josiah bounces and bounces on his mattress and makes very loud vocalizations.

I see a light come on in the window of the house across the street.  A car pulls out of the neighbor’s driveway. The world is beginning to wake. My son has yet to sleep.

I’m not sure we can continue these sleepless nights for long.  It doesn’t seem to phase Josiah at all, but Rick and I NEED sleep. Tonight, Josiah is getting one of these: