Hitting Snooze

Lately I’ve been sleeping in.

My mother takes my daughter around 6am and I sleep and sleep and sleep until 9:30-10am. Even my husband gets up at 8 o’ clock.

I’m embarrassed about it, but my body gets up each morning and like a siren’s call I get seduced back to sleep. It’s been a week now and I can’t stop. I’m addicted to the extra hours. 

For the first year of Ginny’s life she got up at 5am every day. For the first eight months I’d be the one to wobble out of bed and put her on my breast. Even after we started bottle feeding, my husband and I would alternate these early morning wake-ups to survive the day.

Sleep has always been important to me. When I get sleep my skin glows, my mood is brighter, and I feel like a fully functioning person. And I’m not talking about 8 hours. I can go 10-12 hours.

And how quickly it all falls apart in the middle of the night when I hear Ginny screaming. I snap at Sal to get out of bed. It’s your turn. Like a light switch that flips on I’m flooded with the muscle memory of sleep deprivation. 

Some kids on the playground take 3 hour naps, and some kids only nap for an hour. Ginny is the latter. I used to think being a parent was about shaping your child’s experience, but honestly it’s the opposite. It’s about letting them shape you. Whether she wants to nap for 30 min a day or eat every hour. My structure, guidance, and schedule need not apply. She leads the way.

Today Ginny decided she wanted to wear her new Easter shoes in the house. She handed them to my mother to put on her little feet, and has been in them ever since. She’s a lady with an opinion and a preference, and she makes it known. And that feels like that’s my job to support. To let her know she’s the authority of her life and that her opinions and needs matter (within reason of course).

And lately I’ve been thinking a lot about control, and mostly about our lack of it. I used to think that my life was a reflection of my choices. And I’m starting to wonder if maybe quarantine is showing us another layer that my daughter has been showing me all year. 

That my job is to be flexible, to listen, and to be open. To not only meet the uncontrollable where it’s at but let it guide me. Listening to my body, and allowing it to take comfort in whatever it needs, be it an extra hug from Ginny or another two hours of sleep.

Xx,

Written by Erin Bagwell
Copy edited by Diana Matthews