Sleep

I took it for granted in my prebabe days--that it would always be there, that I could dabble into it when needed, wanted, desired; like an old coat hanging on a hook waiting to be worn again. As a five year old, I resisted my mother's enforced naps just because she needed a rest. I balked at early bedtimes, even reasonable ones. For a long stretch I could stay up all night until I hit my junior year in college and then all nighters lost their appeal. My energy drop did not come at night it came in the late afternoon when I found myself sleepy, but unable to nap because of sports or after school commitments, or homework, or now children.

An attempt to sleep when Finn slept!!!

Then I had my first son, Finn, and everyone sang the chorus, "Sleep when your baby sleeps." I couldn't comprehend this simple concept when the sun was still up, the dishes piled high, lumps of laundry teased me from its corner. I didn't, I couldn't master the skill of on demand sleep like on demand feedings. It wasn't until I had earned the hindsight with the arrival of our second son, Liam. The morning naps I stole with Finn as a baby vanished, because while Liam needed them, Finn no longer did. My window of morning writing vanished too. The desire to sleep when Liam slept haunted me. Yet Finn's tending to demanded my wakefulness, my awareness. It seemed I became a narcoleptic until dark when both boys settled into slumber this jolted me into action to steal time to read, write, create, anything but my need for sleep. A vicious cycle.

It wasn't until our third, that I got it. With the additional help in those early weeks around us, I would disappear with our third boy, shut the door and snooze greedily. Nuzzled into his sweet smell, our breathing regulated by one each others presence. I got it, that sleep so needed, so sweet, so seductive became my sweetheart. I was foraging for sleep like squirrels do in anticipation of a long winter, knowing that soon, in another season, when he woke up more at 4 months old it too would elude me again.