I have been thinking a lot about sleep lately. In part this is because I had so much time to consider it these last couple nights, lying awake in bed, when I should have been actually sleeping rather than just thinking about it*. Another reason is my incessant obsession with reading baby blogs, and all these moms with adorable little babies seem to be, in general, not getting enough sleep.  (Go figure.)

I remember well the sleeplessness of early motherhood. It was an other-worldly experience, being so acquainted with the many hours of the night. For my first baby, I was very vigilant with making sure she was a) still breathing  and b) fed as often as she wanted to.  Thus, a peep from her, and there were the feedings: the 1:10 AM, nurse for 20 minutes, watch her sleeping in awe, slump off to sleep, and then… by  3 AM, doing it all again. Then the murky 4:33 AM when you really, really feel there is no justice and sleep seems like a strange thing to try to do so many times in one night. By 6 AM, daylight would creep uninvited into my room, making me bitter and annoyed. Go away. I am trying to sleep. Again.

On the other hand, I also remember the joy of the nap with a baby and cats. And a book nearby at all times. Oh well, can’t get up, I’ve got a baby to nurse, a cat I can’t disturb, and I’m also not yet done my chapter. Read and nurse, and doze, and pet the cat. (”Dear, just leave that whole pie right there by the bed. And that water bottle… I’m gonna need it…”)

Now-a-days I’ve still got parenthood-related sleep complications. I often fall asleep in the bed with my 4 year old, soothing her down to rest and making sure she’s cozy and comfortable. There are times when I wake in her room with the sun, having never returned to the big bed and the arms of my mate.

There are also nights where I lie awake thinking and thinking and Not Sleeping; where thoughts intrude on the restful night. There are no babies crying, or requiring nursing. No leaky diapers (or breasts) to soil my sheets. Just tension and worry, or an inability to fall asleep for No Particular Reason. By comparison, those multiple feeding  nights were softly blissful, even while making me weary as heck. There was a miracle, a reason, a rationale for feeling so tired the next day. It is a badge of pride, that kind of sleep deprivation.

I remember calling into a radio show at some point when my babe was young; it was a bone-headed MD guest on some local talk program, droning on and on about how mothers shouldn’t have to sacrifice their sleep, that it would be better to just get someone else to feed the baby so they can have a full night’s sleep. This was so entirely counter to both my own good sense about how to care for a baby, and how to survive parenthood, that I called in. I was put on the air. I asked if there were any studies to show how sleep needs change during early motherhood? Because the truth was, aside from a handful of very difficult nights, I was finding that I felt well rested in spite of frequent wakings. I felt sure there must be some biological change that the human mind can manage in order to survive with less sleep, in order to properly care for our young. The dumb MD had no clue, and no answer, (no surprise there), so I stick with my hypothesis: humans need to do stuff at night to care for their young — we may not always like missing sleep, but we can adapt it.

The trouble is, getting back into some new kind of sleep groove seems tough.  I once had a co-worker who told me that he hasn’t had a full night’s sleep since the birth of his first child.  At the time, his youngest was 5 years old; the older was 11. That’s eleven years of sleep disturbance and apparently not much hope in sight!

For a really fun and interesting insight into sleep research and the value and purpose of sleep, I highly recommend that you listen to this episode of Radio Lab (#302). Radio Lab is a little bit like The American Life only its focus is science, and it’s more hip, and more upbeat.

* I started this post months ago… actually this week, I’m not having trouble sleeping at all. Trouble waking, yes, but trouble sleeping, no. Bleh.