It's Not You, It's 3 A.M.

Let me start by saying this: I am NO MAN'S friend at 3:00 a.m. (just ask my husband!).

I don't require beauty sleep (please, have you seen this mug I'm working with? ;) ), but I require a certain amount of sanity sleep. If I don't reach my quota for sanity sleep each night...well, the results are not a lot of fun, mostly for the people around me (again, just ask the poor hubby).

In the beginning of Anna's life, when the post-pregnancy hormones were coursing through my veins like crack, I thought I was lucky to have the extra time in the middle of the night to admire her sweet baby face, while she fed for hours on end at intervals varying from every hour to every two hours - and that's from start to start, my friends. She would regularly eat for 40 minutes at a time. If you do the math there, that left me roughly 20 minutes to an hour without a child attached to my chest to get any kind of sleep. NOT COOL.

Please note that I am a HUGE supporter of breast feeding. However, after going through it with my first child I have some ideas of what to expect and what to do differently if/when baby #2 comes along. Specifically mastering nursing in bed and purchasing one of those co-sleepers that hooks up to the side of the bed.

I'm not even sure the term Super-"B" would cover my moods during those days. Between the lack of sleep, the swelling from the pitocin, my saggy-ballooned out body now deflated after expelling that little creature, and EXTREME sleep deprivation, even I didn't want to be around me! I would take out my frustration on the only poor target around, who definitely didn't deserve it - the hubster. Poor guy must have listened me to snip and snap at him in the wee hours more times than he can count. It's not like he was (always) sleeping through these middle of the night scream-fests, so I know he was just as tired.

But the ever-patient, understanding, and loving guy that he is, just kept offering to help in any way that he could. And just kept letting my exhaustion-fueld rants slide off of him without ever biting back, as I'm sure he really wanted to.

My point is this - being a new parent is freaking rough. Nobody can prepare you for that. But what makes it better is having a partner who is supportive and loving, even when you don't deserve it. To my husband, dude - I'm glad it's you with me in this first-time parent foxhole. I only hope I can make up for my post-baby crazies through lots of delicious dinners and back massages, because, man, you put up with a lot this past year! And it just makes me love you even more that you were as wonderful as you were about it all.