Thursday 7th October 2010
by Francesca Donner
Today, I’m writing about sleep deprivation.
YIKES.
It sneaks up behind you and nudges you. It starts you swaying, slowly at first. Without attention, it swells into a tidal wave. It brings you to the ground. Oh boy, without sleep, life is not worth living.
Today, sleep (or lack thereof) and Francesca butted heads.
It’s not that I’d had a particularly bad night. Nor had I had an especially grueling day. It wasn’t any one moment that I could put my finger on; but six weeks of sleeping with one eye open takes its toll. And today, the toll needed to be paid.
August was hungry. If he could talk, he would have told me he was starving. “I’m having a growth spurt, mummy.”
And he was squealing.
We tried everything: more food, new positions, songs. Meanwhile, I was keeling over, swaying on my own two feet, wondering whether you could just hire a babysitter to come over and watch the baby so you could take a blessed nap.
And then I realized, that maybe August was tired too. Which he was. He’d been telling me that all along, but I’d misinterpreted the signs.
And we both slept: he in his little bed and I in my big bed.
And I’m alive again.
Whew, it was a close call.