Hanging On By a Treadmill

by Cathy


Bella was eight months old and her crawling stage was in full swing.

I, on the other hand, was still sleep deprived from not fully recuperating from middle-of-the-night feedings and tackling a new phase with Bella - teething.

By this age, Bella had been moved into her own nursery down the hall from our room. So in place of the bassinet I had next to my bed, now sat a treadmill. And believe it or not, I actually did use it now and then when Bella took her afternoon nap, until things started getting too hectic and it ended up sitting there mocking me and my fat ass.

Nonetheless, the treadmill sat there, next to me on the left side of the bed.

One night, in the midst of a mother's not-fully-asleep-expecting-the-baby-to-cry/crazy-dream kind of night, when you're halfway between the land of nod and being fully awake with ten thousand thoughts running through your head - I had a nightmare.

I dreamt that Bella, wearing the cute little yellow fuzzy sleeper with footies she loved to wear, took off crawling and I couldn't catch her. I was freaking out when all of a sudden I saw her, in my dream, crawling UP THE SIDE OF A BUILDING. So naturally, I did what any mother who saw their child crawl up the side of a building would do...I lunged after her. I mean, I physically LUNGED out of my bed and up and off to the left side with both arms outstretched and...got her!

The physical pain and the sound of my own voice yelling, "Joe, Joe, Joe! The baby!!!" startled me fully awake. I opened my eyes. There I was with my arms wrapped around the handrail of the treadmill, HANGING onto it for fear of falling down the side of the building, similar to a monkey in a tree. My face was turned towards Joe, who was now fully upright in bed, rightfully in his own sleep stupor/reality confusion. I kept yelling, "Joe! The baby!" And when he didn't utter a word, trying to make heads or tails of what was going on himself, I got the sneaking suspicion that things weren't happening as I thought.

He turned on the lamp and his jaw dropped at the sight before him. "What are you doing?" he asked me incredulously with only one eye open.
Still clinging to the treadmill handrail, I replied, "Oh my God, I just had this dream that Bella was crawling up the side of a building and I went to catch her!"
"My God, you need sleep. Go back to sleep," he said, turning off the lamp and settling back into bed. He literally just LEFT ME HANGING there.

After carefully unclenching my hold on the treadmill, I sat in bed, dumbfounded at what had just transpired. Whether it was from a sleepless delirium or because it was actually dang funny, I laughed so hard at the whole scenario until I cried; I had been literally hanging on to a treadmill, but mentally hanging on by a thread.

A few days later, the inside of my upper arms and forearms had bruises the size of dinner plates all over them; ugly ones, with every color of the rainbow and then some.

"Jesus!" said Joe. "You must have been really out of it! You really did a number on yourself!"

Yes, that's what we mothers do. We endure physical pain and make ridiculous, unbeknownst fools of ourselves all for the love and protection of our children.

That treadmill is now way gone along with the bruises from that night. But my need to love and protect my kids at any cost? That's still there and always will be.