I am finally beginning to feel better! How exciting is that? My head is full of cobwebs and clear lines of thought elude me, and I am still coughing, but only at night now. I am lucky enough to work from home and make my own hours, so I just sleep later in the morning to make up for broken sleep the night before. I wonder why that is… that I cough all night and cannot sleep, but the second the day starts I can curl up and sleep an extra 3 uninterrupted hours. Not that I am complaining – I am firmly enforcing the “sleep while I can” rule. I am also still operating from bed for today.
My greatest fear is the sleep deprivation to come. I have always been a person who needs a minimum of 8 hours sleep or I am a misery for days and sometimes even weeks. Until I met Brett, anyone who woke me up before I was ready (from my cell phone to my mother to my best friend to my cats) got something thrown at their heads, or in the cellphone’s case, got thrown itself. One of my fondest memories is throwing a pot at someone who thought it would be funny to bang on said pot to wake me while a group of us were away for a weekend; he was the brother of a friend so had no idea how seriously and personally I would take such a thing.
I remember when I was at Varsity, I stayed in a converted workshop at the back of my parents house; it was 2 garage lengths deep and had no interior walls. In order to make sure I actually got up with my alarm, I set multiples – my cell phone went off first next to my head, 5 minutes later my TV would switch on at the end of my bed, 5 minutes after that an alarm clock on my desk halfway through the room and finally, 15 minutes after the first my radio would switch on balanced on the bar fridge at the front door – by then I had gotten out of my bed at least twice and was annoyed enough that falling back to sleep was never going to happen – and so the day began.
I find morning people confusing and I deeply distrust people who get up early to exercise or “just because”. Does this mean I will be the worst mother ever? Maybe… Although, to be fair to myself, I have definitely improved over the years and I think my pot-throwing days are in the past. I am counting on my ability to sleep in the day to let me sleep whenever baby sleeps in the hectic 3 hour-if-you’re-lucky cycles and am hoping with every fibre of my being our daughter will get her parents genes when it comes to loving sleep.
More often now I find myself beginning to worry about when our little girl is actually here. I was an au pair for 6 years, mostly babies and littlies so the practicalities of day to day care I am familiar with; I have loads of friends and family with kids, I have always been really good with them and they have always loved me; I mommy everybody and have collected grown up “kids” throughout my life; and yet suddenly I am unsure of myself. I know this is perfectly “normal” and to be expected, but it doesn’t lessen the fear in the slightest.
So I worry… about sleep deprivation; about my baby crying and me not being able to make it better; about forgetting how to do simple things like bathing her and changing her (even though I have done this a million times with a dozen other babies); about how Brett is going to handle a sleep-deprived me being sleep-deprived himself; about being scared all the time of the millions of things I might get wrong or that might happen. And yes.. thank you oh wise ones who point out how worrying won’t help anyone – I am afraid, not stupid, and emotion is bigger than logic for me right now. Oh yes, I am also still practicing how to take comments, suggestions and advice from everyone without biting their heads off – so I take back my snarky response and say “Thank you, I am sure you’re right”, smile and walk away…