Five Stages

With apologies to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Denial
(1:45 a.m.)
That's not her, is it? It can't be. She's been sleeping through for months. Must be a garbage truck... or a cat... or a snow mobile... something. I don't know what, but it can't be her. Why would she be up?

Anger
(3:00 a.m.)
Over an hour, now. I don't believe this! How am I supposed to function tomorrow? It's not like I can take a day to recover. I have to write a column and make phone calls and answer emails and do finger plays and sing songs and pick up toys and make dinner and tickle & feed & haul 22 pounds of wiggling dead weight up and down the stairs, in and out of the stroller, the car seat, the bath tub, the grocery cart... How am I supposed to do all of that without any sleep? This isn't like you!

(3:35 a.m.)
You're obviously tired. Just put your head down and go to sleep. Down, Baby, down. You know 'down'. Why are you screaming at me? Believe me, I was much happier with you asleep. I sure didn't tell you to wake up.

Bargaining
(4:00 a.m.)
OK, Baby. Let's have a nice, refreshing bottle. Then Mama will give you a new diaper, and I'll rub your back and hum to you in the rocking chair. And you can peacefully drift off and sleep for what's left of the night. OK? If you go to sleep now, we can have a fun day together when you get up - several hours from now. Doesn't that sound good?

Depression
(4:35 a.m.)
That's it, then. This is my life. To teeter interminably on the razor edge of exhaustion, never released to either sleep or wake. Like a character from Greek mythology. I won't be able to write because my mind is like wet cement. I'll be permanently cranky and lose most of my friends, and I'll forget the ones I don't lose, because my memory is like a sieve. It's just as well, because I'll never again have enough energy to clean the house or... what is that other thing... that I do when people come over...? Bake. Yeah, bake. Much too tired to bake...

Acceptance
(5:15 a.m.)
It's all right, my love. We'll sleep another time. I'll stay with you as long as you need me. That's what it means to be your Mama. I'm sorry you had such a tough night. I love you. I'm here, Baby. Shhhhhhhhh. Mama's right here.


Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood