Sleep

The only thing I love more than food, which I really, really love, is sleep. I still haven't grown out of the habit of sleeping 12+ hours as, I assume, most people do once their out of their teens. If I could get away with sleeping all day, I probably would most of the time.

As you can imagine, this became a problem when I had Olivia. Not that it was unexpected, but there's not a whole lot you can do to prepare for waking up every two hours, except for waking up every two hours--and that was so not happening. I slept more than ever when I was pregnant, up to sixteen hours some days towards the end, and I was loving it. Since I couldn't eat anything I wanted (the best perk of pregnancy) due to gestational diabetes, which is loads of fun, let me tell you, I figured I at least deserved as much sleep as I wanted. And at least four baths a day.

Anyway, when we brought her home, I actually had trouble sleeping for the first time in my life, and not because of her--she did wake us up most of the time every 2-4 hours, I couldn't even all asleep for the first couple days. Before she was born I scoffed at all the people who were so psychotic about SIDS that they had to go check on their baby every five minutes. But afterwards, as is usually the case, I realized I was an idiot.

I've mentioned before that I have terrible vision, and usually I am very strict about taking out my contacts at night, because it absolutely ruins the next day for me. They always get all dry, and it feels like wearing acid on your eyes which, as I'm sure you've guessed, really f-ing hurts.

But for the first four days after she was born, I couldn't take them out. I was so worried that she'd just randomly stop breathing, and if I had my contacts out I wouldn't be able to see far enough into her crib to check. But because I didn't want to seem insane, and because the logical part of me knew that if I gave in it would become a habit I'd be hard-put to break, I forced myself to stay in bed, squeezing a pillow, just waiting for that little cry that would tell me she was okay.

I eventually got over it, though even now I still like to go check on her every once in awhile. She's absolutely beautiful when she's awake; the way her little face lights up every time she sees me will never cease to bring tears to my eyes, but while she sleeps...I honestly don't know how to describe it. Sleeping babies are the most peaceful, beautiful thing in the world. I envy that level of blind trust and relaxation.

Anyway, I don't get as much sleep now. Even though she sleeps about twelve hours, I've gotten used to staying up late, so I might only get six or eight hours, depending on how needy the cat is feeling. But I can honestly say that it really doesn't bother me when she wakes me up, and it never did. Anyone else can expect to get a foot in the face, but for her, I'd do anything. So, though I'd have called anyone cray for telling me I'd ever say this, going without a few hours sleep is an easy sacrifice to make.