Menu: Parenting
By: Lila Carter
Updated: May 19, 2020
Originally Published: May 2, 2017
“Every beautiful child has a mother who is relieved to see him asleep.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
The chores are completed, the little one is finally asleep, and I can finally shed my bra. I collapse onto the couch, and a barrage of “to-do” lists floods my mind.
- Soak the onesie in OxiClean after today’s beet adventure.
- Plan meals for the week.
- Create a grocery list.
- Document months 7, 8, and 9 in the baby book.
- Order prints from the last three family photo shoots.
- Unsubscribe from the avalanche of junk mail cluttering our recycling bin.
- Send those prints for framing.
- Organize my closet.
- Start arranging our summer vacation.
- Finish that novel.
- Complete this article.
The buzzing of “things to do” fills the air, akin to a swarm of busy bees. I swat them away and pour myself another glass of wine.
My body complains with aches and fatigue. My hair is shedding in clumps. Nearly ten months postpartum, I often feel like I exist in someone else’s skin—because, in many ways, I do.
All day, I am attuned to his needs, interpreting his cries and coos. When he stirs, I leap into action. As he drifts off, I seamlessly transition into our “sleepy routine,” employing every trick in my arsenal to coax him into slumber.
Dressing him resembles grappling with a wild animal, changing his diaper feels like wrestling an alligator, and feeding him can feel like confronting a snapping turtle. Motherhood at this stage is an extreme sport, and my energy diminishes with every passing hour until I can grab another lukewarm cup of coffee.
In the early days, my son was a snugly bundle who couldn’t distinguish day from night. I found solace in the quiet of those 3 a.m. feedings, a break from the endless “to-do” lists, where it was just he and I. Even during the most exhausting nights, when I felt utterly lost and overwhelmed, I knew dawn would break. Each new day brought the promise of improvement.
As my son transitioned from a newborn to an infant, the seasons changed. Winter arrived, bringing with it a heavy shroud of sleep deprivation. After months of interrupted rest, the charm of nighttime awakenings faded. I was drained yet found myself staying up later, desperately seeking that former tranquility.
One particular night, sprawled on the couch with my phone in hand and the TV flickering in the background, my husband asked, “Honey, why don’t you just go to bed?”
Because all day, I have been living in his little world. My time comes only when he is asleep. And often, I’m too exhausted for anything beyond watching Real Housewives.
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Summary:
Late-night motherhood is often a time for mothers to reclaim their own identity after a long day of caregiving. The exhaustion from balancing the needs of a child with personal responsibilities can lead to a unique nighttime routine where mothers find solace in the quiet hours. Embracing this time, even amidst fatigue, allows for personal reflection and a connection to their own lives.
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