Wordless Wednesday: February 20, 2008

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Lasts

I thought my second baby would be my last, and so I made a conscious effort to remember all the "lasts." Usually, they were "last-firsts" because, really, who can really remember "last-lasts?" You know... last-lasts... like the the last time you were able to pick them up before they got too heavy to carry? The last time you tied their shoes, before they were able to do it themselves? The last time you saw them sucking their thumb?

Last-firsts are easier to remember. The first haircut, the first tooth, the first step. But then, I got divorced and remarried, and since he wanted kids and I wasn't averse to that, we had another. And another. And have talked about a third on and off now for five years. And I never knew if this was going to be my "last." My ex was adamant about no more. Two was more than plenty for him. But Michael would love to have babies until we ran out of space or time...

We've pretty much run out of the former, and are slowly running out of the latter... and I'm starting to realize, "We're really not gonna have anymore." (I think. :) But I never made a real, conscious effort to remember the "lasts" this time, like I did after Blake was born, because there was always the possible promise of another little.

Of course, I have pictures of most of the last-firsts. It's funny, I'm always the one behind a camera, rather than in front of it. For two main reasons, I suppose. One, I hate my own picture taken, and two, if I let Michael have the camera, he'd cut off everyone's head. But seeing all the lasts from behind a lens makes it feel a little unreal, a bit removed. I think the Amish are onto something when they shy away from cameras. I don't necessarily think they steal your soul, but they do steal part of your memory. Perhaps we rely a little too much on the image to remind us, rather than our own experience.

So I'm up at four in the morning, because Dmitri peed the bed. We're planning on trying to night-train him for good come Christmas vacation - going Commando, no pull-up. He doesn't do it too often anymore anyway and I wondered: "Is this the last time I'm going to be up in the middle of the night because someone peed the bed?" Not exactly a romantic "last" - but still, a "last" nonetheless.

I look at him and I see how TALL he's gotten, all the baby fat gone from him now, all the little lisps and cute turns of phrase disappearing day by day, as he takes huge leaps and bounds towards growing up. Autumn's seventeen and Blake is fourteen, and I can remember almost all of their firsts. I know (God-willing) some day I'll look back from a much, much further distance than I am now with Dmitrios. Time just keeps marching on.

I'm sure I'll even wax nostalgic about the last time he peed the bed. We parents can do that about almost anything. And by then, I'll probably be worrying about peeing the bed myself. From Pull-Ups to Depends? Ah the circle of life...

Insomnia

I can sleep through a nuclear explosion. The only time in my life I've slept lightly was right after I had my babies, and that was only when they were sleeping right next to me. Then, I seemed strangely connected to them. I'd wake up and look at the clock and note the time: 2:12 a.m., and think, "What am I doing awake!?" and then the baby would stir. Not cry... just stir a little. Hungry, ready to nurse. Nature is amazing.

But now that I'm old (shut up, thirty-seven happens to feel very old lately, okay?) and don't have little hungry babies to wake up for, I sleep like a rock. The problem is, when I do wake up, I'm UP. I even fight having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night because I know once I get out of bed, I won't be able to get back to sleep. If something manages to wake me up and I actually have to get out of bed, I know I'm in trouble. I won't be able to get back to sleep, usually for at least an hour, maybe more.

It's funny because, as a doula, when I was doing births, I could sleep anywhere, almost instantly, and I could fall back asleep within minutes if I was awakened for some reason. When you have a job that requires you to be wide awake at two in the morning at the ring of the phone, it was quite a boon to be able to sleep whenever, wherever, however.

However, with one exception (a lovely home birth just before we moved here) I haven't done a birth in a year. I got quite burned out after doing six births in a month and decided to take a break. The break turned into a BREAK. Now, just I don't know. As much as I love doing births, that's about as much as I hate being on-call. And my family hates it even more.

But lately I've had time to wonder what this waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to go back to sleep is all about, because Dmitri's been going through a 'bout of nightmares, and I inevitably end up awake, tossing and turning and unable to go back to sleep long after he's snoozing in flying-dinosaur-monster dreamland again.

I guess this waking up and not being able to get back to sleep is called "late waking insomnia" or some such thing. I call it damned annoying. But I'm beginning to wonder if maybe it isn't related to my not doing births anymore? Maybe my ability to sleep was part of being a doula, knowing I had to get as much sleep as I could, as fast as possible, because I might be up for the next 24 hours at a birth?

Whatever the reason, whether it's age or job-related or something else entirely--I really wish it would go away. Sleep is one of my greatest pleasures in life. I hate not being able to sleep.