Sleep is not something I really worried about before; I was always a light sleeper and able to make do with very little sleep. Sleep became something I resented, a necessary unpleasantness, like pooping. Of course sleep and poop are the two main things we talk about these days, the dearth of the one and the excess of the other.
We thought we were so smart, splitting nights so that we’d each only be half exhausted. However, it appears we miscalculated a little: half of ‘infinitely tired’ is still ‘infinitely tired’, it’s just that now there’s two of us that are sleep deprived. Of course, realistically, it’s not really that bad, we do both get a little more sleep than if there was only one of us seeing to her little ladyship’ whims in the night. But you can’t not feel the strain on your body and sanity.
I have no idea how people do it, night after night being the sole responder to the cries and wails of discontent. Eternally adding to the sleep deficit, with seemingly no end in sight. Never mind those who also have additional children and/or try to hold down regular work at the same time. My hat is very firmly doffed to them!
I’ve come to appreciate sleep, am even coming around to the idea of a nap; at least the theory of them. Better get what I can, after all people have told us this phase will last about three months. Except for those who’ve told us it’ll last six months, a year, two years, three or until they’re twenty one and moved out. Some say never.
I’d say that sounds exhausting, but adding more tiredness on top of ‘infinitely tired’ is still just ‘infinitely tired’.