Night-Time Feeds

Typically, my son only wakes up once per night now, usually around 4 or 5 am. He has a feed, and then goes back to sleep for a couple more hours. Sometimes I’ll hear a single cry out from the baby monitor. I’ll lie there with my eyes closed hoping there aren’t any more sounds and we can all go back to sleep for a bit longer. This morning, he wakes at 2:45, which is a little off for him. I lie in bed watching him on the monitor, willing him to go back to sleep, but also knowing that if he does, it will only be for another 45 minutes or so, and then he will wake up again. When I start to realise he’s not going back to sleep, I climb out of bed already dreading the early start we’ll have when he wakes to start his day in a few hours’ time.

As I creep through the lounge room, trying to be quiet, my cat starts meowing at me for her breakfast. I try not to be annoyed that another living being is also relying on me to keep them nourished. I do get annoyed though, and then I feel guilty—call it “cat mum guilt!” I feed the cat even though it’s not even close to her breakfast time. If I don’t, she will keep meowing at me and I know that will stimulate my son while I’m trying to keep him calm and quiet.

I open my son’s bedroom door and approach his cot. Usually, by now, he has somehow pulled his arm out of the sleeve of his pyjamas, and I will find him with his arm sticking out of his head hole. Instead, this morning he has just been sucking on his sleeve and when I pick him up, I discover that his whole arm is drenched. In my half-asleep state, I try to figure out how his nappy has leaked to the point where it has covered his arm, before I realise what’s going on. I try to dry his arm off a bit with a towel, but refuse to change his pyjamas. As soon as I put him back in, he’ll either remove his socks, pull his arm out, or just start sucking on it again. I can’t see the point in waking us both up more to change his clothes.

I pick him up, and as I bring him out to the lounge where we have our nightly feeding ritual, he has a few babbles to tell me how his night has been so far. We sit on the lounge and I mindlessly scroll through my phone while he feeds. Towards the end of his feed, I forget about the tiredness for a minute. I do love these special moments we have alone together in the quiet, early hours of the morning. I realise how precious this time is. Very soon, he'll be bigger, he won't need me like this anymore, and I’ll miss the way he plays with my hair while I feed him.

When he’s finished feeding, I don’t even feel that tired anymore. I carry him back to his bedroom to change his nappy and put him back to bed. This morning, I have a good chuckle as he waves to the empty lounge room and says “Bye bye” as I take him to his room. Even in the middle of the night, he can make me laugh. While he lies on his change table, he often pretends to sneeze or mimics the action of washing his hands when the nappy-change process is finished.

I pick him up from the change table and give him one last hug before putting him back in his cot. I close my eyes and enjoy this moment. As he nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck, I rock him and sing his bedtime song. This time is always such a lovely experience because during the day he is so active and doesn’t really stop for cuddles. I am usually reluctant to put him back by now as he is being so cute and cuddly, but it’s time for us to get back to sleep.

As I go back to bed, my head hits the pillow, and all of a sudden, no position is comfortable. I lie on one side, and then I really want to lie on the other side. I lie on the other side, and think how good it will be to lie on my back. After trying all positions multiple times, my mind starts churning: “What should we do tomorrow?”, “Did I remember to close the fridge door?”, “How exhausted will I feel when I wake up?” You can probably guess where I got the idea to write this?

At some point, I must eventually fall asleep. It feels like I’ve just closed my eyes, and then I hear the sound of my son babbling in his cot, this means he’s awake and it’s time to start the breakfast routine. Most mornings, I roll out of bed feeling exhausted, like the last couple of hours of sleep haven’t helped me at all! My eyes are struggling to open properly and I wonder how I’ll get through the morning. This morning was a little different as his feed was earlier than usual, but on those mornings when he wakes at 4 or 5 am, I often come to the realisation: “I should have just stayed up after his feed. At least I would have had a couple of hours to myself to have a coffee, maybe write more amazing articles, or just read my book.”

I remind myself again: Time moves so fast and it's so precious. I need to just enjoy the moment. I can always sleep later.