By Ashleigh Wilkening of Bless this Beautiful Mess
I’m. So. So. Tired. I’m so beyond tired, I’ve been reduced to functioning in a state of autopilot. I’ve lost any ability to think but rather act, as I just go through the motions. Sometimes this fog leaves me feeling like I’m in a dream, watching life pass me by, unsure if this is reality or a nightmare I’ve been sentenced to.
The other day, I found myself Googling ‘Can a person die from lack of sleep’? If you’re knee deep in the 100 days of darkness with a newborn, you’ve most likely wondered this and possibly even attempted to Google the answer yourself. Not only was I genuinely curious, but I also needed ammunition for when my husband questioned me after telling him, I’m so tired, I think I’m dying.
I’m a month in and I’m still hoping the worst is behind me. This most likely is the denial talking because in the beginning, it’s a long road before there’s any glimmer of hope of getting better.
In addition to the one-month-old, I have a two and three-year-old driving me crazy, keeping me busy all day. No time to sit down, pee or find that cup of coffee I’ve been looking for all morning.
When I do happen to go out in the world and come across other parents with matching disheveled appearances, bloodshot eyes and a tiny human being crying from a carrier, we lock eyes and give each other ‘the nod,’ almost as if we are part of a club. We both are struggling to operate on little to no sleep, just trying to survive.
After bringing your newest bundle of joy home, you’re filled with so much happiness and excitement, riding a wave of adrenaline for one to two weeks before exhaustion finally sets in. This initial phase gives you a false sense of reality as you think, I got this. No. No, you don’t.
After the mask is pulled off, the shit hits the fan. There’s no easing into it. One moment everything is deceivingly easy and manageable, then the next, you’re drowning in the deep end trying to keep your head above water. Your sweet baby, who up until then has been a picture-perfect infant, always in a constant slumber, is all of the sudden pissed off and has mastered the use of its lungs.
Before the baby comes, people will tell you to get in as much sleep now because soon it won’t be so easy. This is stupid. If you’re a first-time parent, this warning will most likely fall on deaf ears. Unless you’ve experienced it first hand, you can’t grasp the horrific nightmare you’re about to endure. If this isn’t your first child, you may enjoy a few moments of relaxation before your baby’s arrival, but it’s not possible to stock up on sleep, saving it to use at a later date. You can sleep as much as you want now, but there’s no rolling over extra hours of shuteye. There’s no saving you – you still will be out of your mind tired.
‘Sleep when the baby sleeps.’ This is another popular suggestion given to expecting parents. Yes, in a perfect world, this would be an afforded luxury. When I had my first, I was stupid to not heed this advice. I wish I could knock some sense into that ignorant first-timer. With two toddlers running around, it’s damn near impossible to sleep when the baby sleeps. Trying to align all of them to nap at the same time – especially when my eldest doesn’t always need one – is a logistical nightmare and almost not worth my effort. Getting my hopes up for this most rare, improbable occasion is just setting myself up for disappointment.
I’m not even safe at night when my little one sleeps for a few hours at a time. This is when my toddlers are at their most mischievous. Their nocturnal nonsense isn’t limited to a specific time, but rather occurring randomly throughout the night. Without warning, an adorable tiny human being shows up beside my bed telling me it’s time to wake up before attempting to climb my body as if it was a rock wall on American Ninja Warrior. When we were expecting and people were giving out their opinions left and right telling us what adventures lay before us, everyone failed to mention how shitty toddlers sleep.
One month in, it’s safe to say sleep-deprivation is in full effect and I’m operating on an unhealthy level of exhaustion. Countless times I leave my keys still in the lock outside our front door. The kicker is, I don’t even realize they’re missing until my husband comes home from work to find them dangling there. This week alone, I’ve put disinfecting wipes in the fridge along with ice cream, milk in the pantry and a bag of chips in the dishwasher. While backing our minivan out of the driveway, I almost got to the end before realizing the sliding door was left open. I should’ve guessed something was off when my 2-year-old was yelling, “wee,” thinking he was on some amusement park ride.
To get us out of the house, our destination usually is a park where I pray to the good Lord above that no parent is there. I can’t make conversation to save my soul, but then if it’s silent, it’s even more awkward. It’s a lose-lose situation. I’m expending all my energy on this adventure out of the house and need whatever remains to drive us home and make lunch, so please, lady, don’t try to engage me in any small talk. We are both better off for it.
I know soon this fog will be lifted and I can resume feeling like a functioning human being capable of thought and conversation. Until then, I’ll chug as much caffeine as I can get my hands on and focus on surviving. At the end of the day, if everyone is alive, it’s been a great day.
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About the Author
Ashleigh Wilkening is a SAHM of three children under the age of four who spends most of her days on a never-ending quest for a lost toy. She is a lover of caffeine, naps and a generously poured glass of cabernet. On the rare occasion she gets free time, she contemplates taking a nap in the family van, but finds herself exercising as it’s a more legitimate excuse to escape the house. She writes at Bless This Beautiful Mess and can be found on Twitter and Facebook.