When I was
pregnant, the thing I heard most was “get as much rest as you can now because
you won't get much of it when the baby arrives.”
I smiled, sure I knew where that glint in their eye came from, why it
seemed to always be accompanied with a slightly cheeky grin. I was prepared. I’d done my share of all nighters and I’d
learned the art of the catnap to get you through a long stint of never-ending
days.
My little
lady made a name for herself our first night in the hospital, either eating or
crying the whole night through. A midwife took her for a while so I could get
some rest. She came back less than two hours later, looking extremely frazzled
and remarking at the set of lungs my girl has on her. I had no delusions that this would change
anytime soon so was ready to tough it out until she learned the difference
between night and day.
As it turned
out, she slept her first seven hour stint a couple of days before our six week
check-up. Brilliant, I thought. After a couple of nights like this, I’ll be
able to think normally and sanity will return. That’s when I learned one of
those many little secrets parents keep from parents to be (or maybe we just don’t
listen?) - Just because she was sleeping, doesn’t mean I would.
