Is there such a condition as Obsessive Sleep Disorder? If not, I am officially introducing it to all those sleep-obsessed parents like myself. With new babies come the inevitable sleepless nights which most parents are warned about. We spend weeks or, in some cases, months, pouring over baby books, pontificating over routines and black-out curtains, desperately trying to get ‘through the night’. Strangely, one of the first things people always ask you when you are cradling your little darling is, “Aaah. Does he or she sleep well?” As if you need reminding of the one thing that is at the forefront of your mind day and night.
I am relieved that our baby is now safely ‘through the night’ but my obsession with sleep remains. The slightest muffle and I am sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide open, fumbling around for the light switch. With relief, I then realise that the night feeds are over but then spend the next hour desperately trying to get back to sleep, panicking about the hour I have now lost. From about 6.30am, I am back on alert, waiting to hear the early sounds of life in the house. The small footsteps padding down the corridor, the loo seat banging, shortly followed by, “Mummy, is it morning?” Meanwhile, I am mentally and obsessively counting how many hours sleep I have managed to squeeze in. Six – I’ll never cope, Seven – alright I suppose, Eight – good, and Nine – total heaven.
Inevitably, we are occasionally woken by the genuine nightmare which involves pirates or witches climbing through the children’s windows. While I go through the ritual of calming them down, taking them to the loo, getting them a drink, and convincing them that witches and pirates definitely do not live in Dorset, I find myself glancing at my watch to keep a check of valuable missed sleep time. The next day, my poor husband is regularly reminded of my sleep-deprived night and if he dares to slump on a sofa after lunch, eyes drooping, he is met with, “No time for daytime sleep. Do you realise I was up all night with the kids and have still got supper to cook, baths to run and the third pile of washing to hang up?”
During the afternoon, I am usually feeling much chirpier. The end is in sight – tea, bath and bedtime books, followed by large drink, baked potato, East Enders and early bed, with any luck. My daughter finds it impossible to understand why grown-ups look forward to going to bed. Admittedly, it must seem a little strange when your mother excitedly sprints upstairs, brushes teeth, rips off clothes and flies into bed with a cry of, “Thank goodness.”
