That Mommy Lady

Heartfelt Humor and Views on Modern Motherhood

18 Questions That Ran Through My Mind the First Time My Baby Slept Through the Night

I keep telling my baby girl that while I love her endlessly, I would also like her even more if she would just let me sleep for more than 3 hours at a time. Since the day she was born, I can count one hand the number of times that she's slept through the night. Actually, I only need one finger, because it's only happened once. And it was a less satisfying experience than I would have thought, given that I would have done pretty much anything short of drugging her to make it happen. So why wasn't it everything I imagined it would be? Oh, because I spent most of it freaking out. 

Here's what was running through my mind when I should have been blissfully asleep:

  1. Whoa, she's been asleep how long?
  2. Oh my god, is she breathing?
  3. Has she fall into a coma?
  4. Should I poke her?
  5. Why am I kinda bummed out about this?
  6. Why do babies grow up so fast?
  7. How can I miss her right now when a couple of hours ago I was dying for her to go to sleep?
  8. Is her diaper gonna be a disaster zone when wakes up?
  9. Is she definitely breathing?
  10. Is this going to happen again?
  11. What did I do to make this happen? 
  12. How do I duplicate it?
  13. This has to be a one-time fluke, doesn't it?
  14. Did she wake up at some point and I slept through it? 
  15. Or maybe I did wake up and I just don't remember? 
  16. Am I capable of sleep-changing diapers and I had no idea?
  17. I should be enjoying this more, shouldn't I?
  18. Why am I awake right now?

Sadly, the answer to number 13 at the moment appears to be yes. But at least now I know what kind of sleep she's capable of, and I'm pretty excited. There seems to be a greater possibility that at some point in the future, I won't feel like a zombie 24/7. Or at least if I do, it'll be more like one of the super scary zombies that run really fast, not the kind that just stagger around. Fingers crossed!

 

My Baby Pooped My Pants. Seriously.

Paranoia, Thy Name is Mommy: 38 Things to Worry About