And you thought 24 hours with a newborn was tough. Here is Part Two….
Let’s start at 3am. Not because it’s the start of the day. There is no start to your day. There is no end. It’s just one long, never-ending, mind-melting continuum of time….
You gently lower your baby into her bassinet and collapse back into bed, hopeful you might get a solid two hours sleep before she wakes again.
You’re asleep before you close your eyes.
A 15 kilogram missile launches at you from the end of the bed. A deep, dark part of your brain tells you to take your toddler and put him back in his bed because ‘sleep habits’ or something else that’ll ruin his life, but that would require you to stand up. And talk. And reason with a two year old. And 6 minutes sleep has not equipped you for that shit.
He falls asleep with his big toe in your ear, his arm across his father’s face and with his future as one of those creepy guys selling body scrub to housewives in the middle of the shopping centre, secured.
He’s a heavy breather. The baby has a blocked nose and coos like a pigeon in her sleep. The husband snores. The cat is at the foot of the bed purring like a Harley. It’s a suffocation of smug comfort and ENT issues.