Restless Good Night Routine

Our nighttime routine is anything but routine... it has no rhyme, no rhythm! It is undeniably the most difficult part of the day in the life of autism. When Mom and Dad are both exhausted from the day's events.... one child ready to crash n burn while the other is just getting her second wind.... or so that is how it seems.

Last night I had a revelation about this challenging situation; and ironically it was the very fact that this night was no different than any other that gave me the insight...

Everyone was in bed by 9:00pm. Well, everyone but Sahara... who was running downstairs to find her tiny wooden bed for her tiny plastic Bambi deer figurine. She turned every toy chest over until our apartment looked like a ‘Toys R Us’ explosion took place.

The thing that tugs my heart strings the most about this is that she doesn’t have the words to say, "Hey, did anyone see the little wooden toy bed?" Nope instead, she was running around yelling, "Where'd it go?" coupled with a bunch a mindful jargon that certainly... just maybe… most likely meant, "Hey, did anyone see the little wooden toy bed?"

So we spent an hour looking for a toy that she is obsessed with, but we didn’t know which toy we are looking for... a needle in the hay stack. Thank GOD for Emily, who is usually the one to break the code. She figured it out and Bambi finally got a proper tucking in!! Everyone was back in bed.

10:00 pm

"I hungry. I hungry. I eat chocolate pudding.... I huuunnnngry."

Chocolate Soy Pudding is one of the only things she will eat and I am certain she really was hungry... it had been hours since she had consumed anything other than string and paper; pica sucks and has been rearing its ugly head more frequently again!! This brings us to the next development of the story... After she ate the pudding... she said, "Potty!"

I tell her to go... after 5 minutes I say, "Sahara wipe and come back to bed."

"I POTTY!!"

"Are you pooping?"

"Yes, I poop." This was followed by several minutes of loud grunting. I get up and go to the bathroom to see her pushing with all her might!! Constipation!! I am certain it was triggered by the cardboard she ate the night before. There she sat in tears for a half an hour with just 2 tiny pellets to show for it. My heart aches! I can see the frustration in her eyes as she says, "Potty broken."

11:45 pm

After she settled back into bed, she decided she wanted to sleep on the futon at the end of our bed. We get her settled in, lay back down... and she starts to chatter non-stop. We can understand words intermittently, "mermaid... poop... party... frog...."

12:30 am

She was now hopping like a frog across the futon... and flopping like a mermaid, all while the chattering and giggles continue. Her dad tried to reason with her... but rationally we know there is no reasoning... she is stimming and we have to wait it out. I lay down beside her... I watch and hold the space... I can see that it is not a conscious game she was playing. But rather an obsessive flow of thoughts, actions and words.... pouring out of her.

1:45 am

Then just like every night... she suddenly stops. Silence!! She scoots closer to me... I can feel the sleepy warmth of her body as she cradled into my arms and gently played with my ear lobe and cheek.

2:45 am

The house was asleep.... as my own thoughts kept fading in and out of sleep.

4:00 am

She woke up again to use the bathroom.... sensory issues do not sleep!! It takes her another hour get over the moisture on her skin from the urination.

5:00 am

She was sound asleep. I was beyond the exhausted phase... you know, the one where you can't sleep. I lay there watching her peacefully sleep.... maybe one of the few moments of normalcy in her chaotic world... I heard her sister's heavy breathing… and my husband is in a deep soundless sleep. I was alone with my thoughts in the quiet of the night. I lay there thinking about this... and I conclude that this bedtime routine serves a grand purpose.

I believe that she is emoting the stress of her day; processing the events, words, interactions, demands, fantasies, constipation, pica, raw frustration of living in a world where few understand her thoughts and words... in the only way she knows how... in the quiet of the night… where she is safe and nothing will interrupt this process… she flaps, stims and processes her day. And once this unconscious need subsides she falls into a gentle sleep.