It’s a while since I’ve been up for a few hours in the middle of the night. I’m out of practice.
Charlie has finally begun to sleep a bit better so we’ve been getting decent stints at a time. I feel like a new woman. When he wakes to feed I automatically haul him into bed like a robot and continue to doze whilst breastfeeding. But tonight he’s miserable and sick, all runny nosed and sneezing. We’ve gone the full shebang on the remedy front; nappy change, bottle and pamol. The trio of hope.
And for me one giant mug of tea. Should help to keep the vocal cords hydrated as I sing soothing lullabies... I like to mix it up between inane nursery rhymes and a bit of Fleetwood Mac. One can only stand so many reruns of I’m a Little Teapot before one finds oneself going well and truly over the edge.
Fashion tonight has reached a new level: Tartan ripped pyjamas that should have been thrown out a year ago and a woolen blanket over the shoulders to keep warm whilst breastfeeding. I look like a bloody Highland clanswoman.
Not that I give two hoots. Priorities have shifted since becoming a Mum - though I notice things, I don’t care enough to change them. Style remains wanting, hair stays a birdsnest, legs remain unshaved. No more the fashion-conscious days of heading out to town in a mini dress on a freezing winter’s night. Bring on the snug comfort of some dumpy dungarees and chunky wooly socks.
I observe the changes in my body after having a baby with a sort of numb nonchalance. Less tone here and a bit podgier there, and nor do I care to do anything about it. It’s quite a freeing feeling to be Oh so Happy in my own skin.
The average woman loses 700 hours of sleep in her first year as a mother. I heard that on a podcast the other day, then immediately forgot what I’d heard so had to rewind it and replay. That happens when you become a Mum. Information comes in one ear and sails straight on out the other.
But 700! What’s that…about 2 hours a night. Easy I reckon. In the early days I remember thinking Far out look at me go! I’ve been up half the night and I’m actually functioning! Can I get a medal please.
I’m not complaining. There is something deeply special about being up in the quiet of the night with a baby. Just the two of us.
Charlie is asleep now and though my arm went dead long ago, I find myself lingering. Taking in his button nose, listening to his peaceful sighs, holding him close. Trying to imprint this moment forever in my mind.
Good night little one.