Sleep regression is a thing and it’s terrible. Where did my child who sleeps so well go? I rather desperately need to be reunited with him. If things don’t change soon I will be going out on Hallowe’en as a mom-bie. I already feel dead inside and it’s been like three days, which I realize is ridiculous but COME ON. It’s the universe having a little laugh at my expense.
You see, every so often my boyfriend will gaze at me lovingly and we will discuss romantically the idea of having a baby. The baby has a name already. His name is Oliver and he buys me “Share a Cokes” with Oliver’s name on it and we laugh and laugh. We have fully imagined our life with a new baby with the possible exception, apparently, of how we would handle sleep deprivation.
I’m normally a night owl, but things have been tough. I am so freaking tired. I don’t know how I ever thought I could handle a baby when I’m a giant wimp about three nights without enough sleep with an eight-year-old. Imagine that’s my whole life! Who was I kidding? I think the part that people forget when they think about no-sleep phases is that you are forced to interact with other people who also have not slept. It’s unpleasant and we mostly just sit on the sofa and bristle at the sound of each other chewing or breathing or even hinting at a snore like a pact has been broken. It’s a very aggressive game of chicken where you just hiss “FINE! SLEEP! WHATEVER! I DON’T CARE”
We try not to keep score in our relationship but I am not going to lie, I’ve been deeply resentful of the imbalance between myself and he-who-got-twelve-minutes-rest on the sofa. Insomnia begets conflict and conflict begets an even more cranky and sleep-deprived woman.
Fatigue is a little bit like drinking too much champagne. You have that wave where you’re giddy and flying, riding high on adrenaline and you just love everyone and you’re all in it together. We have just rounded the bend past giddy where you’re cranky and your shoes feel like they don’t fit and you just want to go home. Home, the land where the little dude sleeps. I wanna go back THERE, I want to present my passport to Dreamland and declare my citizenship amongst my fellow pillow and blanket enthusiasts. I’m an expat in a strange land of Yawn.
This is a phase, and it too shall pass. Sleep regression is a thing and it’s terrible. I miss my sleepy little boy. I miss my bed. I am a terrible mom-bie but a great mom and I want to remember what it’s like again to be rested. It’s been three days and it’s time to concede that the Universe laughs last, which is fine, so long as She doesn’t snore next to me on the sofa.