Last night Veronica had trouble sleeping. Her tummy is upset.
So, from midnight to two, I was up and down to help her relax.
Except, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. It used to. I used to wonder how I could possibly do this FOREVER. Other parents didn’t help either. They would never say, “You will be stronger, you will be fine after time”
They just roll their eyes and say “Oh you think it gets better? It doesn’t.I haven’t slept since my firstborn, and he’s 40 now!”
Crao, Crap Crap. It’s enough to make you get into your car and drive and not look back.
But I remember one young girl talking to me. She was maybe 12, and the oldest of a large brood. I was pregnant, and she said “I am so scared to be pregnant! I think it would be so hard and it would hurt so much!”
What am I supposed to say to that?
I’m supposed to be the grown up and reassure HER.
“Well,” I said. “You have to be older and then you will be strong enough. THink how much stronger you are than when you were 8! When you are older you will be strong enough to bear it.”
“You think so? Maybe…”
“That is also why you should wait!”
See how clever I was? And how utterly ignorant? I think a 12 year old probably recovers much faster from teh physical injury of childbirth.
But it turns out that I’m recovering from the shock of the definite possibility of never sleeping a solid 8 hours for the next 5 years.
It can be done. And, if you make sure to leave room in your life for breathing it doesnt’ have to be that bad.
But here I am, talking about it some more. Talking about the unrelenting shock of parenting
I’m not thinking new original thoughts. I’m sleepy. I’m just mostly churning old thoughts. Treading water.
But at least I’m still afloat.