The Twittery Sleepless Mother Report
I can't BELIEVE I was talking yesterday about whether or not I should stop taking my medication. All it takes is one sleepless night for me to completely freak out about my parenting choices again, for no apparent reason.
Yesterday after work, I visited my friend M., who has a gorgeous two-month-old, D. He is a beautiful baby, very happy, and he's already sleeping a million gazillion hours a night. I stared at his little face and thought about my friend A. saying that her daughter had begged for a sibling. We drank wine and talked about how easy her labor had been. When I got home, I asked my beloved if he thought we would ever want another one, a question he and I revisit about every six months, and usually we look at each other and laugh, because we are So Not Baby People. Ha! We think. Never again. And he feels good about it, and gives it no more thought.
Still, as I drifted off to sleep, I thought, well, MAYBE another one wouldn't have so much trouble sleeping as the little angel does. MAYBE lightning doesn't strike twice. I started reading my favorite sleep book again, and with every page the horror of sleeplessness came back to me, the nine months we spent forging through every day with five and a half hours taken in two-hour increments, trying to meet deadlines, be nice to people and not die in traffic accidents. It was the ultimate in survival mode for me.
Sister Little pointed out how quickly it had gone on the phone this morning, although in the same breath she asked why the heck I would let anyone other than me, including the little angel, make that decision for me. And in all truth, the little angel has never indicated she is aware that other humans might exist in our family unit. I thought about Sister Little's statement, and I realized that part of my life did not go quickly for me. Don't get me wrong - the happy parts didn't, either - but the sleeping problem was so severe, so completely life-disrupting that at this point, every moment I spent on the floor of her room, listening to her cry and staring at the sixteenth nightlight I'd tried to get the ambiance of the room just right, is seared permanently in my brain.
We've been out of town every weekend in June, and she slept pretty well while we were traveling. It sort of fell apart once we got back. She's been up every night at two and five again, although usually she goes back to sleep pretty fast. Last night, there was a cat in heat outside her window, and so she woke up every time it yowled from two until about six a.m. I took the first shift, but I couldn't stand it anymore by about 4:30. I remember looking at the clock thinking at least I could get two hours of uninterrupted sleep before getting up for work. It was an eery flashback to the bad days last winter.
So, there you are. Sister Little keeps telling me the only person putting pressure on me is me, and she's probably right, although I know there are those out there, maybe even you, Gentle Reader, who thinks it's a parent's duty to provide every child with a sibling that they may love or hate. I did think about it when I accompanied Sister Little to her CT scan last Friday. Who would accompany the little angel if she had one? But then I also thought hey, I don't have an extra husband or an extra mother or father in case something happens to one of them or they are not available when I need them, so why should I apply that logic to siblings? I am twittery on this subject, always have been. And for some reason, every time I don't get sleep, I start questioning everything about my parenting style, not just how I handle her sleeping problems. I wish I didn't. I'm confident in the other choices I've made in my life, so why can't I just feel good about this one? My stomach seizes up with fright when I contemplate going through this sleep battle again. So why would I even think about more babies?