Dear darling baby of mine,
It’s three in the morning and I’m not myself. To be fair, you’ve dragged me out of bed at three am, which is officially within the ugly hours of the morning; nothing good ever happens between 2 and 4 am.
Sweetie, I can accept a 1.30am wakeup. At 1.30 in the morning, I can fool myself into thinking I’ve only just barely laid my head on the pillow so it’s no big deal. I still remember what it was like to dance on tables at one in the morning, so I can forgive a 1.30 wake up.
If you demand to see me at 4am I can tell myself you’ve slept through the night but accidentally woke too early. I’ve probably had four hours of sleep in a row, which is a winning effort for any parent; so 4am, while not ideal, is not the worst.
But 3am? It’s the middle of the night you ungrateful little turd, WHY WONT YOU LET ME SLEEP!?
please please please please please please
Little one, I love you more than words can say. My love is at its biggest when you’re fast asleep in your bed. Sometimes the love threatens to carry me up the stairs and into your room so I can scoop you up and shower you with kisses. I don’t, of course, because I’m not a halfwit. That’d be like asking Pete Evans to discuss bone broth. Idiocy.
Let’s be honest, I’m not perfect during the day either. I get angry, I yell, I issue threats and ultimatums. Mary Poppins, I am not, but I think we can agree I always manage tread the line of mental stability because, my darling, I can see your face. Your sweet, enchanting, adorable face that makes my heart dance and stops me from leaving you out on the nature strip for the council clean up. Your face saves you every. Single. Day.
The nighttime brings the darkness and in the dark I can’t see your face. Your force field of cute is compromised and all I can see is the white-hot rage of sleep deprivation burning in front of my eyes.
This is not good news for you, small child.
During the day your cries pull at my heart and I run to you for comfort and cuddles*. At night, they sound like the caw of Lucifer.
During the day your head, tucked under my chin, smells of giggles and pinkie promises. At night, when I’m rocking you back to sleep for the second hour in a row, it smells like the decay of my youth.
During the day, your chubby hands on my face feel like the opus of my soul. At night, as you swat at my face and pull at my hair, they feel like gnarled talons of despair.
You know, as long as you’re comfortable, that’s all that matters isn’t it? ISN’T IT???
I’m not proud of the things I’ve said and done in the middle of the night and in the morning, when the guilt sets in and I’m begging your forgiveness, I pray you never remember the time I called you a knob or that other time I said you were embarrassing yourself or when I yelled, “you’re UNSTABLE” in a fit of startling irony.
I’m so sorry, my sweet babe. It’s not your fault. Sort of. I mean, if you just stayed the fuck asleep I might start to act more like a human and less like a creature from the underworld. Seriously sweetheart, it’s really fucking up my already tenuous grasp on patience and civility.
I also blame those arsehole sleep experts who tell me every single thing I do is wrong. They’ve convinced me I coddle you and the effects will be devastating and long lasting. While you scream to be picked up and my arms twitch to hold you, my head is tutting at my weakness and telling me it’s my fault you can’t settle yourself and I need to stop indulging you in the middle of the night so you can learn to sleep.
It’s irrational, this anger. I’m thinking of my lost sleep, I’m thinking of all the other babies out there who know how to sleep, I’m thinking of all the things I’ve done wrong that make you unable to stay asleep. I’m thinking how every scream is a testament to my failure as a mother. I’m also thinking, deep down inside, how hideous I am for not being more comforting or nurturing.
My heart is telling me to calm the fuck down; my brain is telling me that growling at you in the dark certainly isn’t helping; but my frayed nerves have well and truly snapped and they’ve short circuited the whole system. I’m not in control.
Please, my baby, forgive me. When my shushing sounds like hissing and my lullabies sound like death metal, I know not what I do. It’s not me, it’s the night momster. I’ll try harder my sweet. Or, of course, you could always call for Daddy…
Mummy xxx
* specifically for cries with real tears. If you are whinging because the toaster is not toasting your toast fast enough, I feel far less concerned about your emotional well-being.
Is there a night momster in your house?
10 comments
when I yelled, “you’re UNSTABLE” in a fit of startling irony.
This caused me to laugh uncontrollably… because it isn’t happening to me 🙂
Thank you Lauren, you don’t know how much I needed tip read this. One of my 5yo twins did this to me. The past month, she regressed a little (Yes it gets better, I promise! But not until your body clock is permanently set at midnight), anyway she did the dreaded 3am wake AND woke her sister for a party! 3 times in 3 weeks! I am not proud of my response. I’m an ugly mum at 3am, especially when I’ve been studying all night till 1am.
Waw, so glad I’m not alone. My son is three and sleeps like an angel. My daughter of thirteen months woke 3 times last night. You know, just to make sure I’m still around I guess. She does that every single night and when daddy goes to her she goes mental. She only wants me. No one will ever need me or love me as much as she does now, ever again. This thought doesn’t bring the patience or comfort I need at 1.30, 3.00, and 4.30. And at 6.20 she is ready to rise and shine while I look and feel like the walking dead. Even when I’m writing this I feel the anger but I do love her to pieces.
At this moment we’re on holidays,me, my kids,mom and sisters. My mom was going to take care of my daughter at night… The other night she got so hysyerical (she knew i was around somewhere) that everyone was awake at 1.30. We should have had a party but were out of booze. I feel your pain. Lets hope that It will pass rather sooner than later.
Irina, we must be living the same life. It sucks but there’s always hope the phase is nearly over and they’re just about to learn how to sleep like a champ. Pop was a great sleeper to start with but she totally forgot how to sleep around her first birthday. Fingers crossed it’s nearly over for us both!! xxx
Hi Lauren,
Just wanted to say I enjoyed reading this piece. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one to turn evil in the night-time ?
My girl is almost 2.5 and and has gotten a lot better, but I shudder every time I think of those constant wake ups!
Has made me very afraid to go back again cause I love my sleep way too much!!
I really related to this article, thanks for putting what I felt all those times into words ?
Oh Suzi, I swear it’s the one thing that really stops me from having 12 kids. If they all slept through from the start it would be so easy and we’d have so much more energy to be amazing mums during the day!
But there’s always a chance you’ll have a perfect sleeper the next time around… it happens! ??
This is one of the best articles about sleep I’ve ever read!! I have felt guilty about my night time parenting when woken up for the umpteenth time and am most definitely not at my best. It was a huge relief to hear someone else’s experience and hilarious what you’ve said during the night! Thank you so much for this great piece!
Thank you Claire! There have been times I’ve stopped and thought, “oh my god woman, what is wrong with you!?” but the rage continues. It’s honestly like I’m possessed. Thankfully I keep most of my rage inside and don’t take it out on her apart from the odd ridiculous comment and gritted teeth… I usually just take it out on my husband, poor bastard!
Sending you all the nighttime love and strength. Just a tip she will settle herself in her own good time. She just loves you to death (literally) and even though you resemble a creature from the underworld at 3am to Pop you are her source of comfort when in the middle of the night she is scared and alone.
I promise you that in her own god time she will settle on her own and that she will separate more from you. I will even go as far as to say that one day she won’t want those cuddles in the same way that she does now and I know you can’t even imagine it right now you will miss them and wonder when she grew so big and didn’t need you anymore. It is possible that you will even miss them so much your heart will ache! The big trick is how do you keep treading that fine line of mental stability in the process.
Can Sarge give you a night off every now and then? And by that I am not necessarily meaning a night in a hotel though that would be super nice but can you head to your folks place for a night to catch up on sleep and leave the kids with Sarge.
xoxo
Oh darling Cathy, you are too sweet. I’m fine, honestly. I know all of this and I have lots of help, but she only wants me. I’m currently sleeping on the floor of her room so I can be closer to her all night. I don’t resent her or the situation at all – but when the night time comes I lose all sense of rationality! I know it won’t last forever xxx