My husband and I greet each other in the morning with the pointless, yet empathetic, question of, “How did you sleep?” We have a five month old and a three year old, short answer: badly. We talk about the elusive sleep of the past like it’s a distant exotic land, a rare vintage of wine, an extinct street drug. It’s not a competition but, if it was, we’re all losers in the battle of who suffers the most. And guess what, dude? I get the trophy!
Owen only wants to nurse from my left breast and this is how I keep him asleep at night which wouldn’t be a problem except laying on my left side is painful due to a wonky hip that hasn’t healed since giving birth the first time. Which brings us to Nora, in her three year old logic, who waits until she’s in a pullup at night to poop for the day. That’s right, she saves it up all day and then unloads at night. To add insult to her episodic incontinence, she does so about ten minutes after we put her to bed and, YES, her bedtime routine includes using the potty which normally she manages to fill to the brim with pee but not poo. It takes until 9pm before she’s actually asleep and our routine starts at 7pm and she’s in bed by 8pm. We watch her on the night vision video monitor as she wonders around her room and sings to herself. It looks like creepy outtakes from Paranormal Activity.
Owen on the other hand is the ultimate cock-blocker. He only sleeps at night if he’s nursing, he’ll only stay asleep if I’m in contact with him, and he’s huge. My back is destroyed from him and the years of carrying around too big of boobs, injury, and pregnancy. I truly am a beast of burden and my back is most definitely hurting. With no sleep I have no chance to heal which means no energy, will, or chance to have sex. Besides, I’m terrified I’ll get pregnant again.
So to anyone who dares to ask, “No, we’re not sleeping through the night.”
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