I love sleep. I promise. What’s awesome is that usually sleep loves me too. Not trying to brag or anything, but Matthew once timed how long it took me to fall asleep, and he came up with 7 seconds.
I love my baby more than sleep.
Since she was about a month old, people have been asking me if she was sleeping through the night yet. Of course, at a month old, she was not. As the months passed, I had gradually accepted the fact that she seems to have inherited an unusually high metabolism, and will pretty much always accept a meal. Now before all of you tell me I’m starving the poor child, I promise I feed her several meals a day, with snacks, plus breastmilk. She still wakes up at night.
This is actually just fine with me. Someday she will sleep all night, but I really don’t care if that happens before she is a year old or not. I’ve just accepted the fact that sleep and I won’t be hanging out much.
So I was very surprised when she slept over 7 hours without waking up to eat. I woke up a few minutes ago and was terrified that something had happened to her. I tiptoed down the hall and gently nudged her bedroom door open just enough to get inside.
I cringed. If everything was ok, I definitely did not want to wake her. I peeked through her crib bars, but she didn’t stir. I listened, but I couldn’t hear anything, so I crept into the room.
She was sprawled out like a sweet little cherub statue – the kind found in water fountains, standing on one leg. Her right arm held her wubbanub in her mouth like a trumpet.
(Image courtesy of lassco.co.uk)
Thankfully, she was breathing.
I went back to bed, but sleep was on strike protesting irregular hours, so I stared at the ceiling for a little while, just being thankful Liliana was fine.
She woke up.