I always knew that one of the most disruptive things about becoming a mom in terms of my life and schedule would be sleep. I like to sleep. My preferred, natural biological schedule is to go to bed around midnight and wake up around 9am. Obviously, that isn't happening anymore. It will likely never, ever happen again except on special occasions.
Pike came into our lives and, after seven months of hopping up to pee several times a night and other good fun like that, I was already on a weird schedule. He spent three weeks in the NICU and I pumped every three hours anyway, sleepy and blurry and playing games on my phone.
We have been blissfully lucky so far with Pike. He came home, and he's always been a good sleeper, only up once or twice a night even when he was tiny. If he's stuffed up (as he has been this week) or sick, he may be more fidgety, but by and large he's slept through the night for months. He's an AWESOME baby. But going to bed at nine in the evening and waking up at 4:30 or 5 am still rubs me the wrong way. I'm not a morning person. I would be if I could be, but I'm not. I don't like waking up, I like staying snuggled in the sheets and drifting back up.
What makes it worth it is that little face. When I go into his room in the morning to pick him up, he pops his head up in the crib, grins, and is always in a good mood. My baby is a morning person just like his daddy - god help me! Thankfully the fact that they're both so happy and smiley in the morning means that even when I'm grouchy and don't want any of it, I'm surrounded by smiles and cuddles and it kinda sorta almost makes it worth being conscious.
