Why Having A Baby Is Like Being A POW

piece of cakeNow I love me some babies. I find nearly everything about them to be absolutely adorable. I love their tiny socks, their fresh new-baby smell (so much better than new car smell), their tiny clothes and their sweet cooing noises.

However. I do not like the first year of babydom.

I've raised three children from babydom now, and I have to say that the first year in a baby's life, while magical and exhilarating, is also the hardest time for me. I often compare those first years to being a prisoner of war.

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First, the sleep thing. None of my babies slept well. Every time I heard someone else gloat about how well their baby slept, I wondered what I was doing wrong. Because mine simply didn't want to sleep. Just as I'd drift off to sleep, I'd hear the baby howling for Mommy in the other room, just like an especially adorable torture technique used for POW's everywhere.

Next, the sleep deprivation sets in. After months of never actually reaching that delicious REM sleep, I realize that I've been having a conversation with a houseplant for approximately twenty minutes. Worst part? It's been talking back to me. It's then that I realize I cannot drive anywhere anymore. If I do, it's as bad as if I'm drunk behind the wheel. This effectively imprisons me for the next six to ten months.

Last -- but certainly not least -- the reason that having one of my babies is like being a POW is because not a single one of them could go five minutes without needing something from me. Now, I know that needing something every five minutes is a baby thing, but mine seemed especially unsettled. And no one else could do a thing about it. It had to be me. Every time. Every single time. For a year, I was chained to each of my babies. I don't think I took a bath uninterrupted during that time.

So it was with great glee that I celebrated each of my babies first birthdays. Not just because I love cake, but because I knew that the best was yet to come.

How did you survive baby's first year?

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