It hit me totally unaware. For months, I’d been celebrating the accomplishment. Basking in the glow of newborn success. Congratulating myself on the daily. Because very early on - she’s just so advanced! - Serena had achieved the much-discussed, highly-coveted Baby Grail: She slept through the night. And none of this “6 hours of sleep IS through the night, you ungrateful mommy wretches” business - we’re talking 8-9 hours here, people. All night. Every night. She was napping, waking, playing, peeing, and pooping like clockwork, and I happily answered inquiries as to whether I was getting any rest with a resounding YES. “I guess all of these other babes are just the worst?” I thought, gazing down adoringly at the tiny, perfect infant sleeping soundly through her first flight. “Look, Aaron, from this angle you can almost see her halo! Lulled into a false sense of security, I began prepping for the NEXT phrase of The Schedule (TM), where she’d be sleeping 12 (!!!) hours at night - presumably growing cuter and smarter each hour - and I’d spend carefree evenings with Aaron lounging about, making five course meals, catching up on Homeland, working out for a few hours, and recording the days most precious events in her baby book. “Man, I’m really going to miss her being awake,I thought. And then. In a classic baby move (h/t Jonathan) Serena, that adorable baby terrorist mastermind, managed to time it so she hit a growth spurt, the 4 month sleep regression (which apparently is a thing? A BIG, SCARY thing.) annnnd started teething all at once. Just in time for the holidays. MERRY CHRISTMAS, MOM. Also, I pooped again. These days, Serena alternately spends her time being the cutest, sweetest, most fun baby girl in all the land, dancing to Taylor Swift (hey, what baby wants, baby gets, guys), rolling over, laughing, grabbing stuff, being cute, napping for nice, long, Mom-can-be-productive lengths of time, and then HATING ALL THE THINGS, INCLUDING LULLABIES, INCLUDING ALL THE COLDPLAY MOM CAN MUSTER, MOST ESPECIALLY NAPS, AND SOMETIMES EVEN MILK. No one sleeps through the night - not even the dog. Not even faux, ungrateful wretch-style. We wake up every few hours, we cry inconsolably, we get comforted, we rock back and forth quietly, we occasionally eat… oh, and Serena usually does a few of those things, too. So, consider this the notice I wish I’d had, proud mothers of sleepy newborn babies. Enjoy the glow. Bask in your pillow. I’ll have the espresso waiting on the other side.
Posted on: Wed, 17 Dec 2014 22:26:57 +0000
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