08/08/2018
Once upon a time (almost three years ago now), there was a little baby called Ziggy, who hated to sleep.
Each time his naively hopeful mum tried to put him down, whether he was fast asleep, wide awake, or the much touted 'drowsy but awake' (which just means 'I'm awake you fu**er but my eyes are heavy'), he wailed with upset and outrage.
And his wailing hurt her ears and hurt her heart, which is what it's meant to do, because , so to stop it she picked him up, which worked, and looked longingly at the fridge and the toilet, and the coffee cup and all those other things she took for granted before anti-sleep-baby arrived.
Each evening, Ziggy baby enthusiastically sang his sleep resistance song, and when he finally closed his eyes, the relief was short-lived, because in an hour or two, but never three, the Ziggy baby would wake and his song would begin again.
His tired mum would sit there in the dimly lit bedroom, with sore breasts and heavy eyes, googling s**t like 'why does my baby hate me', slathering her ni***es with cream and wondering why on earth she ever thought having a baby was a good idea.
One day, frustrated that her baby wasn't doing what all the other babies seemed to be doing, she went to a seminar for some help. Because it was free. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.
And at the free seminar, which was just a taste - for more information buy the book or pay for a one on one consultation - she was told lots of confusing stuff about good sleep and junk sleep and awake times and tired signs and trying harder and not giving in and it sounded so easy. Like duh.
How had she fu**ed it up so spectacularly?
But her baby didn't follow eat-play-sleep, and there was no 'gentle grizzle' to his cries and patting his belly only fu**ed him off even more and notched up his screaming even louder, and so the tired mum thought 'well screw your advice lady, my body is not a mattress' and she learnt to appreciate lukewarm coffee and get her pants off and on with one hand.
Finally, after four long months which is like infinity in no-sleep-baby years, she found babywearing. And started bed-sharing. And accepted her babys evil non-sleeping ways with minimal swearing and the occasional frustrated leg kicking.
For a year Ziggy baby slept in a carrier for every single nap (unless he was having good old junk sleep in the car) because that was what he needed.
People said it would create bad habits, but one day he didn't need to nap there any more.
For two years Ziggy baby-then-toddler fed to sleep every single evening, because that was what he needed.
People said it would create bad habits, but one day Dad read him books and he fell asleep and everyone was like 'what the f**k just happened?'
And then one day tired mum woke up and it was morning.
The mythical 'sleep through the night' was no longer a myth it was a reality! And she wanted to celebrate and yell from the rooftops, but she was tired from sleeping so much, because that's actually a thing, so she got up and had coffee instead.
And so they had made it. They had waited and rolled and flowed and come out the other side. A few more wrinkles, a couple of grey hairs, but relatively unscathed.
Then they had celebration s*x because they were stupid.
And they are now the proud parents of yet another anti-sleep-baby because the parenting gods were like 'your kids are super cute and they can't be perfect'.
But it's okay because tired mum and tired dad are used to sleep deprivation and have been conditioned to hate sleep, sleep-ins, rest, naps and generally anything relaxing and bed related.
The End.
The moral of this story is have ugly babies, then they will sleep all night.
And, that nothing is a bad habit, and nothing is forever. F**k the stupid books and the 'sleep experts' and whatever it is your Aunty Joan says you need to do.
Do what you and your baby need to get through today. Tomorrow can wait till tomorrow.
