Sleep Deprivation and Nights Off - the Silver Lining (and it’s not the night.)
Sleep deprivation is like a boat trying to negotiate fog. Thats how it feels during the daytime when you have to function. Sometimes it's a kayak and you haven't quite got the rhythm and groove of using the oars. You're going hell for leather splashing about as fast as you can, despite not being able to see a metre in front of you - exhausted and frustrated at not getting anywhere fast enough. Sometimes it's a speed boat - and you don’t feel like you’re actively in control of how fast it's going but somehow you're at the steering wheel and just doing your best to direct it through. Other times it’s a gondola ride where someone else is gently pushing it along through the calm waters; it's eerily calm. An iceberg appears out of nowhere - Titanic style - and you are suddenly furious with the gondola driver for putting you in this position as well as yourself for letting him be the captain of your vessel. (I know, I’ve said a mouthful there).
My eldest is 7&1/2, so add in the crap sleep I had towards the end of my pregnancy and it totals a whopping 8 years of being up. Every. Single. Night. I must mention I've had the very much needed help of my mother in law who will happily take the kids overnight so husband and I can catch up on some sleep. And while this is so very much appreciated, it is but a drop in the bucket, nay the ocean, of sleep deprivation that I’m paddling through. While it feels so good to know the night ahead is my own and I have the opportunity to sleep through the night, after years of being up every night, a full night’s sleep is a bit of an enigma. Or a unicorn. Or an enigmatic unicorn.
Your body is now used to being up every night. Multiple times. Your brain invents sounds that mimic your child crying so you wearily rush to your child’s room, eager to soothe them before the racket wakes the other kids - only to find they are not there. Panic ensues, confusion sets in, then the truth dawns - ah, they’re staying with your MIL. Relief. You wander back to bed and are either proper awake now due to the adrenaline of the fictional crisis or you crash. Hopefully the latter. If you’re awake, you attempt Headspace or Calm or another one of those meditation apps that are supposed to help you chill out and drift off. Clearly I haven't practiced for long enough, because my mind wanders and then I get annoyed with myself for not being able to focus on this simple thing. The running to do list is now sprinting. And the worst part is you have this pressure - This Is Your Night Off. Sleeeeeep dammit.Â
You wake up from having yet another crap night’s sleep and kick yourself for not making the most of it, annoyed at how your body has adapted to your new normal. Angry that this has become your normal.
If you did manage a miracle Full Night’s Sleep you wake in the morning feeling groggy like you're hungover because your body doesn't process that many hours of sleep strung together in a row anymore - let alone a full night’s sleep. It’s like it’s tried spinach for the first time, ‘Yuck! What is this full night's sleep thing! Are you trying to kill me?!’ while you wearily reason with it ‘Darling, it’s good for you.’ But it's no use, your body doesn't know what to do with it and is grumpy with you for the rest of the day - or until you placate it with coffee.Â
With either scenario the silver lining is the morning. Ah the morning. Whether you've slept or not, the morning is something you can control. Unlike mornings with kids, this one is yours. Rather than hurriedly scooping tots out of cots, bundling kids into dressing gowns and preparing three different breakfasts for the three different ravenous mouths - it's the ease of starting the day your way. Slowly. Opening your eyes and noticing that you're in your own bed, not on the floor or the couch or squeezed into a single bed with another body. Noticing the daylight coming in from behind the curtains, rather than the blackness of the dead of night. It’s waking up warm and comfortable, not cold and wrecked. It's quiet, not because someone is drawing on the walls downstairs but because there is genuine peace. It's that moment of knowing you can take care of yourself first. You can enjoy a coffee for its taste rather than skull it back for its caffeine.Â
So my new perspective of having a night off is actually all about the morning. It takes the pressure off the sleep and gives you back something, your morning self.Â










