When Henry was tiny I used to be so grateful of a 1 or 2 hour stint of uninterrupted sleep. He would be waking for feeds and I was a new mum, checking on him every 5 minutes to make sure he was breathing next to me. I didn’t know if I was awake or asleep half of the time. It just blurred into one! I was a zombie mum.
These days I curse the mornings where he wakes up at 5.30am and I have to peel my heavy head off of my pillow to go and play mummy. But actually, I should be even more grateful now. I got 8 hours of sleep last night, that’s basically real human sleep. I may not feel very human this morning but come on, that’s pretty good! It happens quite often lately. I wake up like what theeeee… is he alive? Am I alive? What time is It?
People say once you have kids you will never have a good night’s sleep again. That even when they are teenagers you can’t sleep, wondering where the fuck they are and what they’re doing. I get that. So maybe I should start to cherish the 8 hours a night when it does happen. While he’s still safe and snoozing in his cot. I wouldn’t want him to be anywhere else.
So here it goes, a new outlook on sleep. I am going to make the most of the hours I get and not wish away the years until he sleeps until 2pm and I have to bang the Hoover against his door to wake him up!