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haley Baby,

As I write this, you are peacefully napping, which is horribly ironic as this month shall go down as the slow decline into sleeplessness. The past two weeks have found me and your daddy stumbling around the house, downing shots of espresso by the gallon, and sleeping in separate bedrooms to try and overcome this severe sleep regression. We’re in survival mode. Daddy and I alternate nights with you so that on any given evening at least one of us gets more than two hours of consecutive sleep.

It’s not only me and your Daddy that I worry about in this scenario. I’m concerned that you are no longer sleeping more than an hour or two in a row. That most certainly can’t be good for your development, and yet, we haven’t figured out the solution to your fitful sleep habits. You see, you’re now far too big for your bassinet. I went back and realized that we had moved your sister into the crib and her own bedroom at 10 weeks, and here you are, four months old, and we haven’t done so with you for any number of reasons. 1. We can’t risk you waking up your sister every hour with your wails of discomfort and fury, as it’s difficult enough at 3am to have one grumpy kid on our hands. And 2., a part of me isn’t ready to admit that you are so grown up.

Your Momar told me that it’d be like this. That with the first child, you look forward to every milestone and next step. But with the second, you mourn each new development as it is a tangible sign of the time that you now know from experience is so very fleeting and precious. To admit that you are grown up enough for the crib would be to admit that you are no longer my newborn. I know that you are not, and yet, it tears me up inside because I don’t know if I will ever mother another new life. I don’t know if this infancy is my last.

Your Mama, Ms. Mellow Dramatic.

I go back to work on Monday, and that milestone hurts the most. Not the act of returning to work so much as the act of saying goodbye to this unbelievably special time that we have shared. The past four months have been a period of hibernation and bonding. Of growth. Of building. We are now a family of four. And that is a truly incredible thing.

Thank you for that.

And while my Twitter stream is now just a series of midnight rants regarding your sleep habits and my lack thereof, I realize that in a year’s time, I’ll miss those wild smiles of delight at four in the morning. The way you cling to my fingers and shirt. The way you kick and stomp and do crunches – yes crunches! I swear by six months you’ll have a six pack – by my side in the wee hours of the morning, as you learn how to instruct those limbs to bend at your will.

There are times when you’re in your bouncer or chewing on your feet (a new and exciting discovery just this week) that you remind me so very much of your Big Sister. And yet, as you drool a lake and feverishly suck your fingers, or scream if you are not held just so, or smile unabashedly at every passing face, or squawk and coo in intonations new to my ear, that I note the distinct differences between you two. You are your own little person. And we adore you so very much. Even in the middle of the night. On only 45 minutes of sleep.

How could we not? You are our beautiful second born, and it’d be boring if we had the same experience as we’d had with your sister. Bring it on, kiddo. Your Daddy and I are ready for whatever you throw our way.

But take it slowly, okay? I’m trying to soak up each of these moments so I can recall the peace they bring for the rest of my life.

Happy 4 Months.

143 Mama