I should be in bed. It's nearly 11 p.m. and the house is quiet. Vivi hunkered down early after a napless day in the sun and Eliya retired with my husband at around 9:30. Jude is making her little baby sleep noises in the seat next to me. The conditions are perfect for sleep and yet I just can't get there.
There is something about being so massively sleep-deprived that makes my body reject the idea of it altogether. It's not that I don't need it. Oh boy, do I. I can barely hold a conversation muchless remember simple things like what I ate for dinner a few hours earlier. It's a long slog through the day on just a few hours of rest yet I can never seem to settle myself down much before 11 p.m.
The moment I climb into bed I start to feel tense. How much time will I get before a baby wakes up? How bad will tonight be? Can I possibly make it through a night without one or both babies ending up in bed with us? (The answer is absolutely not but I cling to the hope.) It's stressful and the stress makes it hard to sleep. Plus, the knowledge that waking up is excruciating once I do fall asleep that I want to avoid it altogether.
Unlike Vivi, these babies are not even close to being good sleepers. From day one, they would only sleep tucked in next to us and we have unwittingly found ourselves with one crowded sleep situation. While I will readily admit that I love to snuggle with my kids, the family bed is taking its toll on me. I just don't sleep as soundly with a baby on either side of me. How un-mammal-like.... So I put the whole thing off.