the sleep suit

Life with Rachel, also known as kid 4, is never dull. She is full of life and has a spirited personality that demands both attention and respect. She is a near duplication of her eldest sister - in both looks and attitude - and she challenges me and grows me in much the same ways as Abby. For this though, I thank God everyday, because while the awareness required to raise her is exhausting, it keeps me in the moment and does not allow me to lackadaisically let her days go by.

There is a day, however, I wish I would have missed. March 5, 2010. Yes, while ignoring this day would mean foregoing her birthday, it would also mean omitting one of the most personally damaging moments as my life as a mom...let's just say her birthday present this year was that I let her live...

As I opened the door to Rachel's room, after she had been "down for a nap" (yeah right) for about an hour, I was met with a sobering smell that was all too recognizable and equally unwelcome. With the door fully opened, I stood in the hall staring at a fully naked baby. No clothes, no undershirt, no diaper. She was covered from head to toe in poop. There was poop rubbed into the carpet, all over toys, covering her bed, walls, and dresser. I just stood there staring at her, as she starred back at me, neither of us knowing quite what to do. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, I scooped her up and headed to the bath with her.

After and initial scrub and rinse, I left her to soak in the tub while I took on the task of cleaning her room. Remember how I said she had been down for a nap for about an hour? Yeah, she didn't sleep even one minute of that. The carnage left in her room was evidence of a baby who got right down to "business," right away. Scrub, spray, scrape, rinse, repeat. Scrub, spray, scrape, rinse, repeat. I washed all the linens and stuffed animals, and even had to throw away some toys beyond saving. Finally, I resurrected the carpet cleaner that had been stored away for years in the shed outside. It was literally with prayers and divine intervention that all the pieces were found and assembled properly to allow me to deep clean the carpet. It was a huge mess and so detrimental, that I continued to shake in grief and unbelief into the evening.

The next few days of naps and bedtimes were accompanied by duct-taped diapers and constant monitoring with an alert ear to the door. Overtime, I became more relaxed and was convinced this was a one time deal. A week later, upon getting her up from "nap" (I don't know why I keep referring to them as such, she never sleeps), I was once again greeted by a naked baby. This time she was covered head to toe with an entire bottle of baby lotion. It was also rubbed into the carpet, bed linens, walls, toys. There was a whole bag of diaper disposal bags (100) scattered over the floor, along with 3 packs of wipes and about 25 diapers. After the initial shock, I was so thankful this episode did not include feces, the need for nose plugs, or the use of industrial strength cleaners and equipment.

A life lesson was learned that day, as deja vu became an all too close reality - I cannot let my guard down when it comes to raising Rachel. Also, Allen and I can be pretty creative as parents when extreme circumstances necessitate it. That night the "sleep suit" was born, and it has been a staple in Rachel's wardrobe ever since.




















It is a pair of feet pajamas, with the feet cut out, a little v notched into the neck for comfort, and worn backwards. It's a virtual baby straight jacket, if you will. She cannot stand to wear it. In the morning she demands it off right away, and when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror while wearing it, she breaks into tears. It cramps her style, I think. But, I don't really care much how she feels about it. We have been "incident free" for 2 months now (when it comes to diaper drama at least), and I am able to relax a little while she is alone in her room.

I know though - that with this child, with kid 4 - that this will not be the last of her escapades. Crazy as it sounds, I like it. Not the poop part, but the fact that she challenges me, keeps me on my toes, and does not allow me to become complacent in motherhood.