I have an anxious child. He’s always been this way. I distinctly remember crawling into the crib with him to calm his fears at just 9 months old. Without language and without a full nights sleep for 9 months straight it was the best I could do at the time.
He climbed out of the crib at 20 months and transitioned to a toddler bed, which he wouldn’t stay in unless you laid there next to him. And so we did. We also tried bribes, threats, and ignoring him when he tried to come out of his room, but nothing worked.
When he started potty training he was anxious and at night he would find his way to our bed. I fought many nights with him walking him back to bed telling him he was fine and that he had to sleep in his bed. It always ended with me back laying in his bed or if I didn’t want to fight it, him in ours.
Some of this he’ll grow out of and I’ve seen great growth in him since 9 months old. He’s now 4 years old. Still, I think there will always be some anxiety. Thus, I’ve affectionately decided to call him “anxiety child.”
When our day looks different than normal I have to tell him up front. No surprises. I make sure to tell him every morning he’s going to school. Or if we have a dentist appointment before school he needs to know what his day will look like.
The other day he accidentally dropped a piece of bacon in the toilet and flushed it. He was beside himself shaking with fear and crying inconsolably about his bacon. Despite replacing his bacon with a new piece I knew he’d be in our room that night to sleep. Sure enough, at some point he left his bed and climbed into ours. I only vaguely remember him climbing in with us and didn’t fight it.
Whatever is in his head, he has found comfort in laying between my husband and I. It seems to help him process a hard day. At 4 years old, dropping a piece of your dinner in the toilet is the worst day of your life.
I try to give him strategies to cope with all the intense emotions he feels. We talk about breathing slowly and we give hugs. Sometimes though he just needs mommy and daddy bedtime snuggles. And if that means a less than ideal night of sleep for me so he feels comforted, then I’ll oblige. It’s just another part of being a mom.
No matter what happens, whether he grows out of it, or it’s just a part of who he is, we love him just the same.