The post that will make all moms hate me

I've kept this to myself for much of Ava's life -- yep, a whopping four months -- but I think it's time to confess something...

I don't know what sleep deprivation feels like.

I know.

I'm an asshole.

Even when Ava kept us up at night, it was us. We could work in shifts, thanks to Dave taking a full month of paternity leave. And if Ava would ever wake up early, at like 5am, she would just need a bottle before we both went back to sleep for another three hours.

And now? Our routine has actually become a routine.

We do bath time around 6 or 6:15. She gets a bottle after that. If she needs it, I rock her for about 10 minutes until she is relaxed and sleepy. By 7pm, she's in her crib. Not long after that, she's asleep. She wake up around 8pm and freaks out for a minute, but then calms down and just stares into space and/or babbles to herself. Might chew her hand. But by 8:15 or so, she's back asleep.

Then -- this is the best part -- she wakes up around 7am. SEVEN. Actually, I'm convinced she would sleep longer if she didn't hear Dave traipsing around. But who cares? I need to be up by then for work anyway. She's my little alarm clock.

The only time I knew true, delirious, kill-me-now sleep deprivation was when I gave birth. Being awake from 4am one day through to 5am the next day was a special kind of torture I'd never imagined. (Add in the physicality of labor, three hours of pushing and a fun hour of hemorrhaging, and, well, it's brutal.)

But, generally, Ava lets me sleep. So does Dave. So, when the subject of having more kids comes up, all we can think is, "Nooo, we will never get another one like this!"

Which is why I'm writing this post.

If I'm ever crazy enough to decide to intentionally go for Baby No. 2, I need to re-read this. Ava is one in a million.