People love telling moms-to-be how little sleep they will get when their baby arrives. For me, reality lived up to the hype. When CJ was a wee little baby I felt like I was up 24 hours a day, but I expected that. Like I said, people love talking about it. (Aside: if you encounter someone who says something like “my baby slept through the night right away!”, that person is a jerk and probably a liar; you shouldn’t be friends with them).
What took me surprise was what happened when, by some miracle, I would get some sleep.
We decided to put CJ in a crib in his own room pretty much right away. Everyone makes different decisions when it comes to sleeping babies, and that was ours from the get-go. But I guess someone forgot to tell my brain about that decision.
In the early days I would routinely wake up with a jolt, feeling around the bed for the baby I was sure was in there somewhere – I would demand from Rick “WHERE’S THE BABY?!?!?!”. Rick would respond “he’s in his bed…”. Oh yeah. Oops. That happened every night. Multiple times. For months. In between panic attacks, I would wake up snuggling the blankets, thinking they were my little baby, I would gently stroke their “back”, and then realize I was loosing my sh*t.
The panics (but not the crazies) have worn off now, but a new, way funnier thing has taken their place. I now routinely dream that CJ is crawling (ha! not likely with my adorably lazy baby). But he’s crawling into danger! Oh no! So I reach out, quickly, to grab him and save him! But of course what I really grab, violently, is poor sleeping, unsuspecting Rick.
The other night was the best one. Rick was just drifting off to sleep while I was already in dreamland. Suddenly, I had to save my baby! This time that meant my hand completely covering Rick’s mouth. He woke suddenly, gasping for air.
Sweet dreams, Ricky….sweet dreams…