Updated: October 15, 2023
Originally Published: May 2, 2017
“There has never been a child so wonderful that their mother wasn’t relieved to see them asleep.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
The dishes are finally washed, the little one is tucked in, and my bra has been discarded. I sink into the couch, and a flood of “to-do” lists fills my mind.
- Soak the stained onesie from today’s beet experiment.
- Plan meals for the week.
- Write down the grocery list.
- Catch up on the baby book for months 7, 8, and 9.
- Order prints from the last few professional photo sessions.
- Unsubscribe from endless junk mail cluttering our recycling bin.
- Send those photos for framing.
- Clear out my closet.
- Start mapping our summer getaway.
- Finish the book that’s been gathering dust.
- Conclude this essay.
The buzz of “must-dos” surrounds me like a swarm of bees. I swat them away and pour myself a second glass of wine.
My body aches. My muscles protest. Hair falls out in alarming clumps. Nearly 10 months postpartum, I feel like I’m inhabiting a stranger’s body. Often, it seems I’m living someone else’s life — because I am.
All day revolves around my child’s schedule. I anticipate his every need, translating his cries and coos. When he stirs, I’m quick to respond. As he begins to fade, I spring into action, employing my best tricks to usher him into our “sleepy routine.”
Dressing him resembles wrestling with a tiger. Diaper changes feel like grappling with an alligator. Mealtime is akin to feeding a snapping turtle. At this stage, motherhood is a full-contact sport, draining my energy until my next lukewarm cup of coffee.
In the early days, when my son was a cuddly little bundle with no concept of day or night, the stillness of 3 a.m. feedings was a comforting reprieve. It was my time, free from the relentless “should”s, just me and my baby. Even during the most trying nights, when I felt utterly alone in my exhaustion, I knew the sun would rise, bringing a fresh start to try again.
But as my son transitioned from a newborn to an active infant, the seasons changed. Winter brought with it a heavy blanket of sleep deprivation. After months of disrupted sleep, those nighttime awakenings were no longer adorable. I was utterly drained yet found myself staying up later, seeking that elusive stillness once more.
One evening, as I lounged on the couch, scrolling through my Instagram, the TV flickering in the background and my wine glass within reach, my husband asked, “Why don’t you just go to bed?”
Because all day long, I live his life. When he sleeps, I finally get to reconnect with my own, and most nights, that means indulging in nothing more demanding than watching Real Housewives.
For more insights on parenting and family life, check out this informative resource on pregnancy and home insemination at nichd.nih.gov. And if you’re curious about at-home fertility options, you can learn more about these kits here. For expert advice on family dynamics, visit Modern Family Blog.
Summary:
Moms often find themselves staying up late to reclaim their identities after a long day of parenting. As they juggle multiple responsibilities and care for their children, the nighttime hours become a rare opportunity for relaxation and personal time, even if it’s just spent in front of the TV with a glass of wine.