Sleepless Nights

A word of warning to those of you who are not yet parents--when you become a parent, you may very well never sleep again. (Disclaimer: I am very lucky thus far and have a kid who enjoys her sleep as much as I do, for the most part. She is in fact, snoozing away as we speak.) But back to my original point--the minute you become a parent, you sign away your rights to a lot of things, and sleep is quite near the top of that list. This is not to say you are guaranteed to to never sleep again; you just have to be open to the possibility of it.

I know what you're thinking, childless readers out there. You're thinking, "Oh, I know, newborns wake up crying and they have to eat in the middle of the night and stuff." I am not talking about newborns, friends. I wish someone would have told me that there is never an age where you, as a parent, are "out of the woods" when it comes to potential sleep deprivation. From the minute that kid is born until the the time they are, say, 87, you must be willing to accept the fact that on any given night, you will wake up numerous times (or possibly not sleep at all) for reasons related to your child.

What sparked this epiphany, you ask? An ear infection. An ear infection, accompanied by a fever and a runny nose and a cough and three molars coming in. Libby has spent the past 48 hours feeling pretty miserable, and because of that, I have learned that ever-important lesson that I can never guarantee myself a good night's sleep for the rest of my life. Because on any given night, she can come down with a fever, or a cough, or decide to stay out late with friends or have a fight with her boyfriend or decide to quit her job and move to Guam...the list of possibilities is infinite, people. And on those nights, she might need me to give her Tylenol, or advice or a piece of my mind...or I might just plain lay in bed worrying about her.

And that dear husband of mine? "Surely," you're thinking, "He's right there with you, wringing his hands and pacing the floor with worry, Tylenol at the ready?" Ha! Yeah, right. Need I remind anyone of the time Libby was a week old and both she and I were bawling our eyes out at 2 a.m. with every light in the house on, and my mother came from the guest bedroom to comfort us while Tom snored on? I'll admit, he probably wants to kick me when he leaves for work before 7 a.m. and I'm sleeping peacefully in a warm bed, but he forgets that I was awake until absurd hours of the night for the simple reason that I'm a mom (okay, and because I have a slight addiction to late-night reality shows, but I attribute that to motherhood as well).

This sounds pretty miserable, and I'll admit, it kind of is. For someone who easily could have lettered in "sleeping" in high school (if only that had been an option), it is not easy to pull myself out of bed to tend to a crying toddler. And no matter how old she gets, I find myself lying awake many nights wondering if the fan is turned on too high in her room, if the crib mattress needs to be elevated a little more, if she's going to eat enough vegetables next Thursday...seriously, its enough to drive a person mad.

But when that pitiful little 15-month-old, who is too tired and sick to even hold her own sippy cup, musters all her strength to lift her little hand to pat you on the shoulder and whisper, "Mama," your heart melts and you decide that this is why God invented coffee.