Pardon Me If I Sleep
These were my husband’s words to me this morning.
He briefly roused from his deep slumber, his muffled snores pausing.
Someone’s up early, he said, as we both listened to the early morning chattering of our toddler.
Yea, I said, realizing I’d probably just squandered the first hour of my awakeness...my solo awakeness looking for breakfast recipes on Pintrest.
Is the baby kicking, he asked.
Yes, but I’m just awake, I said.
Pardon me if I sleep, he said...as if I thought (or he thought) he’d do anything else.
The first time around, when pregnancy insomnia was keeping me up, I had high hopes of what would happen after the baby was born. He had assured me, long before we were ever pregnant, that he would get up with the baby, too. That he would bring me the baby to feed and then change the diaper and put it back down. I held onto that hope, that, after the baby had left my body and I was again able to sleep on my back or my stomach or my right side comfortably, we would share some of being awake in the dark hours of the morning.
When reality hit, and real sleep deprivation took hold, those utopic dreams - mine AND his - evaporated.
The truth is, I don’t want him to be unable to sleep. It’s miserable. I’m cheap, but I would probably pay money to sleep like him. I’d probably pay money, sometimes, to be able to roll over and go back to sleep through the early morning songs of our toddler...or to be able to completely ignore his questions and demands while watching golf (well, maybe not golf, but something enjoyable...though, maybe even golf if it meant I could just absorb myself in a pre-child-having away).
As far as co-parenting goes, sleep is definitely a low point. My husband is great with our son. When I leave he isn’t “babysitting” he’s parenting. He parents him in church when I lead worship. He parents him sometimes even when I just need a few minutes to myself, but the ‘co-’ in co-parenting doesn’t divide quite so 50-50 as I had imagined, especially when it comes to nighttimes cries in the dark or early morning wake-up calls.
Oh, of course I wouldn’t change it. I love the Wee Guy. He’s a dream and a joy, but I wish I could turn myself off like my husband, just shut down with no regrets, worries, or guilt that I’ll miss the Wee Guy’s plaintive calls...or sleep past 4:30am when pregnant.