Love + Guilt+ Never Getting a Good Night's Sleep Again = Motherhood!

I’m sitting aboard United flight 28 from LAX to JFK. Enjoying business class. Just watched a mindless romantic comedy on my airline-provided media player. Reading Tori Spelling’s autobiography. Listening to ITunes. Embarking on a four-day business trip to New York City, one of my favorite places to visit. There are no sippy cups to fill, no daycare bags to pack, no crying in the middle of the night to wake me up. And I can actually sleep until 7 a.m. every morning! So why did I get teary after the flight attendant raised her voice at me because I didn’t hear her question after she repeated it twice?

Sure, I’m hormonal. Expecting baby number two, nervous about what all of that means. How will I manage the lives of two little ones who rely on me to take care of their everyday needs? How on earth am I going to nurse a newborn while a toddler is running around and needing my attention as well? I know, millions of women have done it before me, and while I’m not confident that it will work out easily, I am confident that I’ll figure it out. I have a great support system around me. Even my husband, who travels a lot during college baseball season, is definitely present whenever he can be. And he’s very willing to help me get whatever help I need to get things done. And he listens when I’m on a rampage and manages to calm me down enough to believe that it will all work out.

No, I got emotional because I’m conflicted. Ever since my daughter was born 13 months ago, all I’ve really wanted was some good sleep. When she was first born, everyone told me, “Nap when the baby naps!” But that’s easier said than done, especially if the baby is a.) napping in the car seat while I’m driving or b.) napping in the stroller while I walk the neighborhood because her screaming inside was making me want to shriek at the top of my lungs. I’ve yearned for some good, quality time to myself, which I usually only get when the baby is asleep.

Don’t get me wrong. I completely adore my daughter. Her conception and birth were a total miracle. And now we have another miracle on its way. Two years ago I didn’t think I could have one baby, and now I’m about to have two. I am grateful every single day for that. Every single day.

But here’s the thing: I'm pregnant and I’m really tired. And when I’ve tried to get some extra sleep (I mean LOTS of extra sleep, not just an hour here and there), it rarely works out. For Mother’s Day, I asked for (and got, bless my husband) and evening all to myself at the local Hilton. I was going to order my favorite foods, eat in bed, and then roll over and go to sleep. How many hours would I sleep? 10? 12? The answer was…oh, heck, I don’t remember how long I slept. I do know that I was about six weeks pregnant, nauseous and with heartburn, and I was in and out of sleep for a very fitful night. (And, perhaps the biggest crime of all: I had to throw out a slice of The Cheesecake Factory’s Craig’s Crazy Carrot Cake Cheesecake because I was too sick to eat it.

So here I am, on my way to New York, on my way to a hotel room all to myself for three nights. Where I can call my daughter at 9 a.m. to say hello and wish her a good day, because it will be 6 a.m. in Los Angeles. I’m thrilled to curl up in my bed tonight.

And yet, I really, really miss that kid. Miss the way she looks into my eyes like there is no one on earth she loves more. (Yes, I know that look will change soon enough, but for now it’s perfect.) Miss her bizarre crawling style. Miss the way she laughs when something strikes her funny (it’s a contagious laugh; I defy you not to crack up when she does it). Miss the way she grabs my leg when she pulls up to standing, using me as balance. Miss the way she hugs me. Miss the way she gives me the sloppiest kisses on earth. Oh, yes, I'm being a little melodramatic; I know I’ll get all of that back in a few days. But isn’t that the irony of motherhood? As much as you love your kids, you crave some time to yourself, and when you finally get the time, all you want is to cuddle with your kids.

And I think that’s one of the things that make a good mother: as tough as it can be sometimes, and as much as you might wistfully remember the days when you could live your life on a whim, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. And while I know I’ll get over this guilt and allow myself to enjoy the solitude for the next few days, I will be glad to get home to my daughter.

And then I’ll yearn for some time alone again. Ah, the never-ending cycle of guilt combined with sleep deprivation. And joy. Sounds like motherhood to me. And I wouldn’t change it.

(But I would like a few extra hours of sleep now and then.)