Well we can check that off the list, over, done with, uneventful.
Our appointment was at 8am. I got up at 6:30. A.M. I haven't been up that early since Bek was a baby. I schlepped down the stairs with my joints aching, eyes still half closed in an effort to block the light from burning my retinas, hands flailing towards the coffee pot like a B movie zombie. Then I realized...Dear God, sometime in the not so distant future I will be getting up that early with a baby again!
Maybe we'll get a sleeper? Maybe I'll suddenly enjoy the wondrous peaceful time that some refer to as the butt crack of dawn, waking chipper and singing a happy working song while making my bed??
I'm betting on none of the above. But I'm also guessing that after the painful initial shock of middle of the night and early morning risings that my internal clock will readjust to Baby Mama Time. Right? It will, right??
I have many memories of hearing that cry in the middle of the night, my ears trained like military grade radar, twitching at the slightest chirp. First whimper, give it a minute, see if it passes, maybe he was just dreaming, babbling in his sleep. Please, let it be a dream, let it stop, pulling the toasty covers back up over my shoulders! Waaaaahhh. Crap it was not a dream! And once I dragged myself to his crib, and scooped up his warm solid little body into my arms, we'd settle into the glider. I'd sing and we'd rock, and he'd rest his head on my chest, sometimes look up at me and whisper "mamma" in his deep raspy baby voice. He'd clutch onto my shirt or touch my face; sometimes I fell asleep with him...and those middle of the night moments were some of my favorites of motherhood.
I will choose to remember those moments. I will acknowledge that the too early really unpleasant 5am wakings exist, but I will not dwell on them. And...at least I know they are coming this time!