The Timeline of "Tired"

It's currently week 11 of Milo's middle-of-the-night munching. This is exactly four and a half weeks past the point that Ella decided to be an angel and sleep through the night. (Yes, I now painfully understand how lucky we were with her). At first, I was naive enough to think that putting him in the Woombie would work it's magic just like it did with his sister, but alas, we are still waking up at least once in the middle of the night. So I started thinking about this sleep-deprivation thing and I've decided that there's a certain progression down this oh-so-familiar path of fatigue. I think it goes something like this:

Weeks 1 and 2: Some might predict these to be the hardest weeks of adjustment, but surprisingly, these are some of the easier weeks to deal with because you're still riding that hormonal high (and sometimes hormonal VERY low) and you're simply caught up in the newness of your little ball of pudge. You look at your husband with googly eyes as you watch him make the transformation from husband to Daddy, or daddy times two (or three...). Life is sweet. You might even catch yourself saying, "Hey, this isn't so bad. I don't know what I was so worried about. I'm not that tired."

Week 3: this is the game-changer. Something happens in week 3, (or at least it did both times in my case): the newness wears off, the family that was hanging around to help (if you were so lucky) has vacated the premises and "real life" starts to sink in. It's 1:42 a.m. and you're up yet again with your hungry ball of pudge and two realizations hit you. 1) Your husband has a hidden talent you never knew existed in all your years of dating and marriage, which is that he could sleep through a tornado. Perhaps DEAF is a better term. At the same time you also realize that you are now equipped with an acute sense of hearing- one so sharp that you can actually hear the boogers rattling inside your baby's nostrils. You find this to be both alarming and annoying.

Week 4-5: Is it just your imagination, or is your darling little one a little less darling at 2:19 a.m.? You'll do anything to keep yourself awake because, as odd as it sounds, having the jaws of life attached to your boobs isn't enough. So you resort to checking facebook on your phone. What? No one else is posting at 2:30 in the morning? Only one new post? Lame. And then by 5:50 a.m., you're so tired that you hate your iPhone, you hate your leaking boobs, you hate your husband for not being able to lactate (and also for the simple fact that he looks so peaceful sleeping beside you) and you hate your child's incessant booger rattling/grunting/squeaking/farting.

Week 6: Hello, growth spurt. In other words, the 20 minute window of time you used to take a shower is practically non-existent. You might as well not even wear a shirt. When you go to your 6 week PP check-up, your OB asks you about birth control and first, you laugh. Who's having sex?? But then you tell him you'll take them ALL. The IUD, the depo provera shot, the pill- Just throw them all in a goody-bag and you'll be on your way. You can never be too sure.

Week 7-8: At this point, baby randomly throws in a 5 hour stretch of sleep here and there and you're so elated that you almost pee your pants in excitement. Suddenly, 4:30 doesn't seem so bad when you weren't already awake at 2. S/he looks cute again. Your husband's snoring doesn't seem to bother you as much. You think that maybe things are starting to take a turn toward normalcy.

Week 9: Yeah, right. SUCKA! You're back at square one again, and this time it stings that much more because you've had a taste of what semi-decent sleep feels like. You fight the urge to pick up the phone and call your mother to tell her you're sorry for all the shit you put her through and that you love her. She must have put the "I hope one day you have kids who act just like you do" curse on you. You think if this is any indication, the teenage years are going to be AWESOME.

Week 10: You figure out that whatever is left of your disposable income after buying diapers and wipes goes to coffee and under-eye concealer, in that exact order. And then wine.

Week 11: The sleep is getting better. Gradually more nights of 5-6 hour stretches, but not enough that you're willing to bank on anything. You've learned the hard way that these precious babes are notorious for making you think you have them figured out, only to throw a wrench (or teether, whatever) into the plans. So you do what can do to get by- only slightly aware of what day of the week it is, and you think it's already May, but who can be sure? You're confident that one day you'll look back, albeit with a much more well-rested perspective, and think it wasn't so bad.
(But then you can re-read this blog-post and be reminded that it only took 5 days to actually finish it because brain cells only function for so long with inadequate sleep).

Ah well, life goes on. ;-)