Thomas, my husband, and I have been married for 3 years. We have a beautiful home, a white picket fence, and a beautiful life together all around. We recently welcomed a baby girl named Ella into our little family. Everything was perfect.
Until the sleepwalking started.
Thomas has struggled with insomnia his entire life, well before I met him. When we started going out, he was very upfront about his struggles with insomnia, how it made him act some days or how restless he is some nights. I never minded, I’ve struggled with anxiety my entire life and while they aren’t necessarily comparable, I could imagine how losing something as important as sleep would impact you. So normally, when he gets up in the night I assume it’s to play video games or watch a show on the couch. He is cranky some days but we always hash it out.
When Ella was born, and was needing changed or fed only every couple hours, day and night, his insomnia heightened and he was almost fully wake every day, all day. There was no dozing off, no feeling relaxed or even trying to lay down. He was just…awake.
So as a couple of months passed, and Ella’s schedule started to be more consistent, I was more than relieved to see Thomas returning to his previous sleep habits, even better ones in fact. His insomnia didn’t just disappear by any means, but he was able to get a few hours or even a whole night in. We both figured it was from months of almost no sleep finally catching up to him.
One morning, around 5 a.m., Ella cried from her nursery, causing me to wake up. When I turned over, Thomas wasn’t in bed with me. Nothing unusual, he did still have nights where he wasn’t able to sleep. I got up and went to Ella’s nursery to put her in the bassinet in our room. After she settled back down, I walked downstairs to the living room to find my husband sleeping on the couch. I don’t know much about insomnia, but I have learned that when someone with insomnia is able to sleep, let them. So I covered his legs with a little throw blanket and kissed his forehead, then went back upstairs to lay down.
The next morning, I woke him up with some breakfast. When he was able to fully wake up, he looked extremely confused. He asked me how he got downstairs. I just shrugged and said I didn’t know, I assumed he fell asleep watching TV. He shook his head and told me fell alseep in the bedroom.
“You might have sleptwalked. You are going through a lot of sleep changes this year, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
I wish that were true.
We both laughed it off and continued with our day, not thinking anything of it. Why would we? Sleepwalking, while sometimes creepy, is normal. I sleptwalked as a kid. My parents would gently direct me back to bed and that would be it.
About a week goes by before Thomas sleepwalks again, but this time it was significantly more strange. I heard a woman’s voice, that I later shook off as a dream, say “He’s in the house,” and the sound of footsteps, like someone was sprinting toward me. I jolted awake, going from a deep sleep to sitting almost upright in bed. I woke up only in time to catch a glimpse out of my right eye of what looked like Thomas quickly laying back down.
I was terrified. Not of him necessarily, but from everything combined. I started to talk to him in a normal tone, to see where he just came from or what he got up to do. No response. I asked again. No response. I don’t know why I was so scared, but I started to yell, desperate for him to say something.
Finally, he turned over groggily and sort of irritated. I again asked him where he went, still raising my voice but not yelling anymore. He informed me that he didn’t go anywhere, and that whatever I was freaking out about was just a bad dream. Too tired to fight it, I just laid down and tried to get some more sleep, but to no avail. My adrenaline was far too high. I’ve had many nightmares in my life, but this one felt far too real.
The morning came around and he asked me what last night was about. I told him everything, and all he said was, “Huh, weird. That does sound kind of freaky. Sorry if I was snappy about it last night, I just didn’t really get why I was being yelled at in my sleep.” I chuckled and apologized for that, told him I wasn’t sure what got into me.
The following night, however, was an entirely different story. I woke up at around 3 a.m. to an empty spot beside me. I decided to get up to check on Ella in her nursery, and once I found her safe and sound, I went to look for Thomas. I looked in the living room, then in each of the bathrooms. I searched in his upstairs office, the guest bedroom, the basement. I couldn’t find him anywhere. The only place left unsearched was the attic, but it was still latched and there is no way to lock it from the inside, so I knew he didn’t find his way up there.
I decided it was time to look outside. If he was sleepwalking, who knew what he could get himself into it.
I grabbed the baby monitor, my cell phone, and the flashlight we keep for emergencies. I opened the front door and started looking for any signs of my husband.
After searching the front yard for quite some time, I opened the gate to the backyard and began to look back there. As time went on, my nerves started to skyrocket and every possible scenario was flooding my brain.
Just as I was getting ready to call the police, I had a thought cross my mind.
The treehouse
When we moved into our home, there was a treehouse in the property from the previous owner. There was clearly a lot of love put into it, so we decided not to tear it down so our nieces and nephews would be able to play in it when they visit, and so our future children could use it someday.
I climbed the ladder into the treehouse and sure enough, I find Thomas. But this time, he was clearly still sleepwalking. He sat against the treehouse wall with his knees up, arms relaxed. He stared straight ahead of him with the glassy, emotionless look many sleepwalkers get, not noticing I was now in the treehouse with him. I won’t lie, it was fucking creepy.
I sat for a moment, wondering what the best way to get a sleepwalker out of a treehouse was. I didn’t think there was a way to safely guide him down the ladder, and I probably wouldn’t be able to convince him to go down a slide in this state, as hilarious as the thought sounded. Against my better judgement, I tried to wake him as gently as possible.
Once he gained consciousness, he SCREAMED. I had braced myself for some type of reaction, knowing before I woke him that you should never wake a sleepwalker, but felt I had no other option at the time. But this scream was blood curling, it was so loud and so intense that a few of the neighbors lights switched on, and I heard Ella start to cry over the monitor.
I started to try and calm him down, but the more I spoke, the more terrified he became. He proceeded to yell at and scold me, accusing me of somehow bringing him into the treehouse. I froze, unsure of how to react. Normally at such a crazy accusation I would laugh straight in his face, making a sarcastic comment he couldn’t help but smile at. This time, though, based on the veins popping out in his forehead, I knew that would be adding fuel to an already raging fire.
After what felt like hours, but probably just seconds, of being yelled at by my otherwise very loving husband, Thomas finally climbed down the ladder, heading into the house to sleep on the couch.
I felt sick to my stomach. What the fuck just happened? I thought.
It took me a moment to gather my bearings, but I was able to find the strength to get back up and go inside. I walked past my husband who was already fast asleep on the couch and went to the nursery to tend to Ella, who was still crying over the monitor.
I picked Ella up and sat in the rocking chair, soothing her back to sleep. I thought about the events that just transpired and how I would approach it in the morning. I rocked Ella for hours and worried about my husband and my marriage until my eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.
When I woke a few hours later, it was to both Thomas and Ella’s beaming faces. “Say goodmorning sleepyhead,” Thomas said to Ella. She let out a squeal of delight and I couldn’t help but let out a sleepy smile. However, when I locked eyes with my husband, I was furious, and he could tell.
“Woah babe, what’s the look for?”
“Are you serious?” I snapped. “Do you not remember how you spoke to me last night?”
He gave me a confused look, and I went on to tell him about the things that took place that night. How hard I looked for him, how worried sick I was, how fucking scary he looked, and all about how he screamed in my face. He listened to me quietly, but with a blank look.
After I finished my explanation, or vent more or less, he looked me in the eye and casually says, “Huh, weird. That does sound kind of freaky. Sorry if I was snappy last night.”
It took a moment for it to sink it, but I realized that he had said almost those exact same words he said the day before, about my supposed nightmare.
I raised an angry brow at him. “You said that yesterday.”
“What?”
“You said the same thing yesterday about my nightmare. What is going on with you?”
“I..I guess I don’t know.”
That was the moment the both of us decided he needed to see a specialist of some sort, or maybe a couple. A sleep specialist, and someone else that can navigate any stresses going on in his life. He went to every doctor he could find. But all the tests came back completely normal. Therapists and psychiatrists said while he has stress factors, the coping skills he uses are the best you can use and shouldn’t be causing any additional stress in his sleep. Sleep tests show nothing abnormal. As far as any specialist is concerned, he is perfectly normal.
He isn’t, though. During the day, he is still the man I married. He cooks and cleans, takes care of Ella as much as I do, kisses me on the forehead every morning, with a cup of coffee waiting for me in his hand.
But nighttime…is unbearable. Every night, I wake up to an empty bed, knowing my partner is off somewhere, staring with that blank expression at nothing. Otherwise, I’m listening to him sprint up and down our hallways for hours, the reason still unknown to myself or anyone else. I was advised by the professionals to not bother him when he’s like this unless it was absolutely necessary.
So now I just lay in bed, night after night, losing more and more sleep as time passes and this new family curse intensifies. I started to keep Ella in my bedroom with me with the door locked, forcing my husband to go to bed on the sofa. He had never given me a reason when he was like this for me to fear him or what he might do to Ella, but he was unpredictable, and as a mother you don’t take chances, even when feelings are hurt.
Which brings me to a week ago. We had dinner as a family, a nice roast my husband had made. We weren’t on the greatest of terms, so the meal was a bit awkward. The sleepwalking was taking a strain on our relationship, at least from my perspective. I resented him for being the reason my nights were so restless, for making me feel trapped in my own room in the night. He had never felt better, though. He was laughing and smiling more, engaging with Ella even more than he used to. During the day, he was the perfect guy.
We ended the night by watching a movie with Ella. It was actually really nice, if I’m being honest. He cracked a few jokes and before I knew it, we were laughing and throwing M&M’s at each other, like we were new lovers again.
By the time the movie was wrapping up, Ella was fast asleep in Thomas’s arms. He carried her to the bedroom for me, but when he laid her down, he looked at me and asked me to let him stay in the room. He told me he missed falling asleep next to me, and he promised that if he sleptwalked again he would go back to sleeping on the couch.
I hesitated for a moment. I knew he would sleepwalk again, but I did miss falling asleep next to my husband. I gave him once chance, and he wrapped me in a hug and gave me a big kiss.
“I love you, thank you.”
I woke up at 3 a.m. to my husband out of the room. Shocker I thought. However, as I woke up a bit more I realized Ella wasn’t in the room either.
I shot out of bed to go and find her. I knew in the pit of my stomach he had taken her out of the room and I would be damned if I didn’t make sure my Ella girl was safe.
This time, I didn’t waste a second getting on the phone with 911. I told them of my husband’s sleepwalking habits and how I believe he is sleepwalking with our daughter. The dispatcher sent an officer out right away.
When I found them, I screamed. My husband was standing in the middle of the street, holding our daughter straight out in front of him, a giant truck heading his way.
My legs have never moved so fast before. Before I knew it, I was prying Ella from Thomas’s hands and pushing him as hard as I could out of the road. He fell down next to the curb, and looked up at me. His eyes were glassy but he had a sinister smile.
“Bet you won’t sleep now.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I started screaming at him, louder than I knew my lungs were capable of. The officer that was sent was there only a few moments later, but by this time Thomas was gaining consciousness.
He told the officer the truth-how he had a tendency to sleepwalk but didn’t know he would ever touch our daughter. The officer bought it and told him to just be more careful.
We went back into the house after speaking to the officer for at least an hour. I took Ella back into my bedroom and locked the door, terrified of my sleepwalking nightmare of a husband.
Bet you won’t sleep now.
I didn’t understand what twisted shit he was talking about. Until now.
Thomas hasn’t sleptwalked since that incident. He no longer sprints up and down the halls in the middle of the night. He goes to sleep and wakes up in the same spot, never losing even a second of sleep. I’ve seen it. When his head hits the pillow, literally, he is fast asleep. However, I haven’t slept since that night. My body as tried. I have tried. But I can’t.
Over breakfast this morning, I mentioned to Thomas that he hasn’t seemed to be sleepwalking the past couple of days. He raised his brow.
“What are you talking about?”
“Please don’t fuck with me. The sleepwalking shit is already stressful, don’t start acting like I’m crazy.”
He shook his head at me and said he didn’t know what I was talking about. I looked at him, partially furious yet confused.
“Do you really not know what I’m talking about?”
“No sweetheart, I don’t. You feeling alright?”
I looked at him, wide eyed. I started to go over everything we had been through the last few months. The sleepwalking, the sleepsprinting. The doctors, the tests. Up to the night he almost killed Ella.
“Huh, weird. That does sound kind of freaky.”
“…What did you just say?”
“Nothing baby. How have you been sleeping?