Go the f*ck to sleep, my sweet little angel monster

Let me set the scene: a mother sits on the couch, sobbing while she holds her screaming baby for what seems like hour number 74, even though it’s only 2pm. Amidst her crying there’s “I’m so sorry”, “Oh my God, go to sleep!”, “Why are you so cute?” and “I love you so much”. It’s a normal day and it’s completely insane.

Sound familiar? I’m pretty sure this has been every parent at some point in the first year of their child’s life, (or at least that’s what I’m telling myself these days). This has definitely been me. It was me yesterday…and the day before.

Yes, this is where I’m at these days, mamas. Serving at the whims of an adorable little tyrant who WILL. NOT. SLEEP. I consider myself a fairly patient person, but this test is next level. Especially because I need to have some patience left for my three year old, not to mention for my husband, for myself and for just, life. I mean, you still can’t lose your shit on a slow cashier at the grocery store, even if you have spent the entire day trying to convince an exhausted infant that sleep is the solution to his problem, only to have him “nap” for 12 minutes or some such nonsense.

What kind of fucked up Stockholm Syndrome is this? Seriously. Sleep deprivation, unbearable noise that carries on for hours – these are actual torture techniques. I wouldn’t let anyone else treat me this way. And yet this kid is still so damn cute. I mean, think about it – if the baby was missing from that scene I described, mental health professionals would absolutely be called in to help a person so clearly unhinged. But with the baby in the picture, it’s just par for the course of early parenthood.

My rational mind realizes that this is one of Mother Nature’s magical mind fucks. We still see our kids as absolutely, heartbreakingly adorable so that we don’t eat them or leave them in the forest or something. But man, if you want to experience the entire range of human emotion in the span of a few hours, you just have to be that woman on the couch. There’s anger and frustration, and a sort of out of body feeling like you might actually be losing your mind, but there’s also fierce and undying love and devotion.

I guess in some way these moments are a microcosm of what it means to be a parent. You are responsible for your little humans and yet there’s so much that’s not in your control. It’s simultaneously energizing and exhausting, thrilling and infuriating, intense love and intense heartache. And no matter how much stress or sleep they cost you, they will always be your sweet little angel monsters.

So to all you mamas sobbing on the couch, I see you.

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2 Comments

  1. Kathryn says:

    Yes! My daughter is 6 months old, and right from the moment she was placed on my chest, motherhood hit me like a freight train. Thank you for speaking honestly. Truth helps other parents out there and shows them they’re not there only ones. Stay strong mama’s.

    Like

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