We didn't plan for this to happen

Sleep Deprivation and Baby Vomit

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This is Cadence at around 8 pounds. She's grown so much since coming home from the hospital!

October 26, 2007

Sleep deprivation, especially when prolonged, can cause a multitude of adverse effects. Blurred vision, aching muscles, decreased mental acuity and concentration, headaches, and irritability are some of the more pleasant ones. As the lack of sleep continues, the body degrades, and the symptoms become more serious. Hand tremors, color blindness, hallucinations, and psychosis can result, and this is only the tip of the iceburg.

Sleep deprivation is used as a form of torture. The victim is kept awake for days on end, then when finally allowed to sleep, they are abruptly awakened and interrogated. Said one torture victim, "In the head of the interrogated prisoner, a haze begins to form. His spirit is wearied to death, his legs are unsteady, and he has one sole desire: to sleep... Anyone who has experienced this desire knows that not even hunger and thirst are comparable with it."

I can relate.

I would challenge this torture victim to spend one week with a colicy baby! Not only am I abruptly awakened after finally being able to go to sleep, but add in vomit all over my clothes, baby poop smeared on my jeans, incessant laundry washing and housework, and the inevitable argument with my husband over who's going to feed the baby at the butt crack of dawn.

I daydream of sleep. I fall asleep standing up like a horse. I fall asleep sitting on the couch with the bottle sticking out of the baby's mouth. I start to nod off when I'm in the shower, when I'm doing the dishes, when my husband is in the middle of telling me an anecdote about his day at work. When I do sleep, I immediately jump straight to REM's, and when I am abruptly awoken by Cadence's cries (which are better than any alarm clock on the market), I feel as if I have no brain functioning left. I'm a zombie, meandering about the house with the bawling baby in tow. I try to think of a song to sing her, but not a one comes to mind. If someone were to ask me to recite the multiplication tables, I'm sure I would fail miserably.

But on the other hand, I am lucky. Cadence could be on an oxygen machine, on a heart monitor, have a colostomy bag or mental retardation. Amazingly she has none of those. She is simply a normal full term baby now. She's like a machine whose sole purpose is to scream, spit-up, pee, poop, and eat.

Just when I feel like I'm about to meltdown, she smiles. Her little cherubic face lights up, her big blue eyes glimmer. In these times, she reminds me of the little redheaded baby from the movie "Willow". She's devastatingly lovely, and I marvel that my body made her. These sweet moments make up for all of the rest.

One day she'll start her first day of kindergarten, she'll get her drivers license (God help us), she'll graduate high school. I know it will happen quickly, before I know it. So even though I'm falling asleep in a standing position like Mr. Ed, I realize that one day in the future I'll remember her as a tiny newborn and miss it.