Time....

Being a new mom (he is about 3.5 months old now!) I've come to experience all times of the night. And here is what I think of them all - especially between 12 am and 5 am:

12 am: This time still feels like a normal, average time to be awake. I still feel like the studious, learning self that I had been before we had kids, which has normally kept me up till this hour anyway. I feel in sync with humanity and relatively optimistic about the night to come. I dream of a full night's sleep and a productive and industrious day tomorrow where I will clean the home and get dinner ready at an appropriate hour.

1 am: Ah, the night wanes on. Not to be discouraged, I still feel like there is enough night left to get to sleep, providing the young one goes to sleep as well. I feel supported by those who I know are still up at this hour: the computer programer, the college students, the other mothers who are assuredly awake with their children. With a fair amount of confidence I hope for a night of decent sleep ahead, while smelling the coffee I'll surely need in the morning.

2 am: It is most definitely night. It takes a little longer to wake up this time as I confusedly stumble to my young one's side to get him the food he has decided he needs at this unusual hour for eating. Regardless, I take solace in those I assume to be up at 2 am even still: friends locked in intense conversation who have lost track of the time, government contractors working on last minute proposals, and, of course, the other mothers who I know are up at this hour. I feel like it is the hipster hour - just late enough to be cool and cognizant, yet not to late to be crazy tired. While my hope for a night sleep is still buoyed by my desperate need for it to be so, what is left of my intellect starts deciding what flavor of coffee it will be and scheduling times for naps during the day.

3 am: At this point I am too tired to figure out if it is late or early - it just is and I am awake. Consoled by the fact that I am meeting my child's needs, I think of those who may still be awake at this hour: people at bars who lack the wherewithall to go home, college students who aren't quite smart enough to realize that they need to sleep no matter how much fun they are having, and the mothers who are also (or still) up with their children. We are becoming a sorry lot. The crazy tired begins to set it, and I dream now of Irish coffee. Now begins the bargaining with myself about how food doesn't need to be made during the day in favor of napping whenever my child sees fit.

4 am: This, I have determined, is the loneliest of all hours. It is so lonely, in fact, that it has been discussed at the TED conference, the meeting of some of the greatest minds in our society. I know the only people awake at this time are the insomniacs and the young mothers who are accompanying me throughout this journey, and together we raise a rally crying of "WHY?!" followed by the whimpering of those who are too tired to know how tired they are. We mothers mindlessly browse facebook, only to see the same statuses left 4 hours ago, sometimes leaving a echoing cry for anyone else who is awake through our status updates. We try to stay on the right side of the line between slumber and consciousness while praying deep prayers for our children and their sleep (may it come soon Lord!) Gone are the desires for coffee and only the cry for sleep remains, regardless of how little time left we have for it. I know for sure now that my home tomorrow will be messy and dinner may only be a dream as I rock my precious baby to sleep.

5 am: I try to convince myself that it is still night, and there is still time for sleep. Yet I know soon the sun will be peeking over the horizon, and there are many hard workers who wake up at this time every day. I hesitantly think of all those who are up now: the commuter waking up early so he can beat the traffic and be home in time to be with his children, the doctors who so diligently attend to our care, and all the other mothers out there. While this crowd is definitely improving in intellect, the one fact remains: these people will most likely be awake for the rest of the day, as shall I if the child decides to identify with them as well. I hope for the best as my child slumbers away and crawl off to bed in a futile attempt to wring out whatever hours of sleep are left in this night.


The Rest of the Time: As rough as any night may be, there is no greater privilege than to be up with my child. I can think of no greater joy at these hours than to be spending it with the human life God has entrusted briefly to my care, and to be spending this time with conversation with Him and my baby. Yet even so, I would enjoy it more during the day!