Sleepless Night

This past weekend, I was talking to a friend of mine who is expecting
her first baby next summer. Amy and I, of course, have never gotten
the chance to care for a newborn, but between Amy's many years as a OB
nurse and the fact that they don't really move, I think I have
romanticized how easy it would have been, especially in comparison to
the carnage that is watching our two rugrats.

How easily I forget the X factor, which is sleepless nights. God, it
seems, has a sense of humor. For no sooner had I seen my friend than
the very next night, I arose at midnight on account of the howling
wind and our screen door downstairs flapping against the house.

After 45 unsuccessful minutes trying to fall back asleep, I decided I
would begin my day. And so I prayed, read the Bible, got my running
gear on, watched two football games while on the treadmill, showered,
shaved, dressed, and ate breakfast while watching a third football
game. Finally, at 4, when I'm usually getting up, I crawled back into
bed and fell back asleep.

I awoke at 6:30 to Jada racing up the stairs, herself scared awake by
the howling wind and flapping screen door. My body was so tired I
couldn't move. This is what five hours of sleep, evenly divided into
two shifts and separated by 4 hours of being wide awake, feels like.
Somewhere, a parent of a newborn is nodding in agreement.