Please let me sleep … and then bring coffee

My daughter wakes up at 4 a.m., grunting and screaming, looking for relief from the excess gas that has built up in her stomach.

She is only seven weeks old, so it falls to me, her mother, to provide her that relief.

I lift her off my chest, where she’s been sleeping for the last two hours, pat her gently on the back, then more forcefully till I hear a burp escape her lips. I also feel the wetness on my exposed neck due to a poorly placed burp cloth.

She returns to sleep on my chest, having refused to sleep in her crib since birth, only to wake up minutes later, fist in mouth indicating that she is ready for her next feed.

Again, it falls to me to provide her nourishment from my literal body, which still shows signs of ravage from an arduous, terrible pregnancy.

She will repeat this cycle in two hours — three, if I’m lucky — and almost every time it will be up to me to nourish and comfort her.

A recent study from Cornell University found that one of the reasons human beings live for so long is due to the care we receive from mothers, specifically that the connection between mother and child is foundational to our long lives. It is the kind of revelatory information that is akin to learning water is wet.

Forgive my snarkiness, but I haven’t had much sleep in the last two months.

Most of my sleep happens in very short bursts, usually lasting no more than two hours.

I no longer wake up on my own volition but rather by the cries of a small human who has somehow squirmed from my chest to my lap, and now has a full smelly diaper for me to change in my constant halfawake state.

I spend 22 hours a day with my newborn so I am acutely aware of how my long periods of maternal care are contributing to her survival.

I didn’t need a study to tell me this.

What I do appreciate about the study is that it is careful not to prescribe that mothers should spend more time with their children.

Thank goodness.

It is not that I don’t love my daughter, or her brothers who preceded her. It is just that I literally have no more time left to give.

Between the literal life-sustaining activities for my daughter and the supervisory functions for my young sons, including cooking meals they won’t eat and cleaning messes they’ve made — and making awkward small talk with other parents at birthday parties — I have very little time remaining for myself or anyone else.

I’ve had many well-meaning people say to me in various ways that the days are long but the years are short.

This is usually said by parents of older children who now have time for “hobbies” and “interests” and a “social life.” What even are those things?

I know as my children age I will look back to this time where I could solve their simpler issues, because I acknowledge with bigger kids come bigger problems.

I so badly want to cherish all the time I spend with my kids, especially now that I know strong connections will help them live longer lives.

But today, I’d like four hours of uninterrupted sleep and a hot shower.

I’ll even settle for three hours of sleep and a coffee that I haven’t had to reheat multiple times.