The Last Time

It’s 12:30 AM.  I haven’t slept a wink yet.  I have to get 3 small children out the door and off to different places tomorrow morning before I head into work.  Then I have to get as much work done as possible because said children will all be home with me next week.  Oh, and it’s going to snow tomorrow, so it’s early pick up for school.

This seems to be my story as of late.  My little perfect sleeping angel hit the 4 month sleep regression.  Now I get to see her at least 2 times before I actually get in bed, usually 10 minutes after I close my eyes and then 2-3 more times in the next 5 or so hours before I have to be up for the day.

I have pretty much kicked Parker out of bed so that Perry has her own space.  I’m all paranoid about her falling out of bed or Parker rolling over on her, so now she has half of a queen sized bed. Little turkey.  She doesn’t know how good she has it.

And as much as I complain (oh how I complain) and as grumpy as this lack of sleep makes me (super grumpy, just ask anyone in my family), I just keep reminding myself, ‘enjoy this, it won’t last forever.’

She won’t always be this little.  She is my last and I need to enjoy every stinking moment of this.  I need to soak it all in.  She won’t be little forever.  She won’t always need me.  There are no guarantees.  Just breathe.

I remember sitting in the dark nursing Darcy for hours.  This was before the Advent of cell phones (good, now I’m truly dating myself).  I would get so frustrated.  She took so long and I had no idea what I was doing.  It was hard and lonely.

Sleep deprivation is real.  I understand why it’s used for torture.  I am exhausted.  I am barely functioning.  Good luck to anyone that has crossed my path these last two weeks.  Clear rational thoughts have left my head.  My crazy is showing.

I miss my husband.  It’s weird that he’s sleeping down the hall.  It’s lonely waking up without his body next to mine.

This too shall pass.  All of it and it will be something else.  But I won’t get this back.  I won’t have this little chubby snoring angel.  Everyday she is growing and changing.  Everyday she is getting older.

She’s our last baby.  I wish she would stay little.  But then that seems selfish because I also am excited for her to grow and experience life.  I just can’t fathom not having a baby.  I can’t imagine my baby growing up.  I’m not looking forward to my ‘lasts.’

The last time that I pick her up, or the last time that she cuddles on my lap.  The last time that she needs me to feed her or the last time that she takes up half of a queen sized bed.

Life is fleeting, there are no promises.  So even though I’m not in love with this sleep deprived state, it will end.  She will change.  And it sounds crazy, but I will probably even miss this a tiny bit.

Author: sheriroaf

Sheri Roaf is the mother of four wonderful children who turned to blogging after her 17 month old son Bennett passed away unexpectedly. Through her writing she has found a way to help herself and her family move forward in the face of tragedy.

One thought on “The Last Time”

  1. I’m right there with you, sista! Time doesn’t need to freeze, but just slooooooow down a tiny bit…the lasts are so hard. I never realized how hard they would be. And don’t worry about the sleep deprived, crazy state, that’s why we are creating an island. 😍😂


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