I woke up exhausted today after technically sleeping for about ten hours — classic broken sleep as a new mum — but of course with all the frequent wakings, it’s not really ten hours. It’s more like ten hours of interrupted unconsciousness. So it doesn’t count, right?
Sometimes I wonder what life would feel like with uninterrupted sleep. Would I be more positive? Would the world look like a beautiful place again? Would I suddenly understand quantum physics? At this point, anything feels possible.
I know lack of sleep isn’t bringing out the best in me. I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine before pregnancy, but now, after more than fifteen months without proper rest, I’m definitely not the version of myself I want to be.
The Early Days
In the early months, I used to wake up not knowing where I was. I would open my eyes and immediately look for the baby — was he asleep, was he okay, where was he? That panic stayed with me for a long time. Even now, sometimes I wake up and my first instinct is to check if he’s breathing, if he’s there, if everything is fine.
People love to say they’re exhausted, or that they couldn’t sleep last night, blah blah blah — but nothing compares to a new mum’s exhaustion. I once read that in some places, frequent waking is used as a form of torture. Honestly, I get it. Yet somehow, we endure this as mothers (and some fathers) without any Geneva Convention protections.
Why Sleep Deprivation Hits So Hard
Here’s why this exhaustion feels so brutal — not just emotionally, but physically. And honestly, understanding the science makes me feel a tiny bit less like I’m losing my mind.
You never reach deep sleep
- Every wake‑up resets the sleep cycle.
- Your brain never gets to the restorative stages (deep sleep + REM).
- So even “10 hours” of broken sleep is basically nothing.
Your emotional regulation collapses
- The part of the brain that handles patience, empathy, and calm literally shuts down.
- This is why tiny things feel enormous.
- And why you can cry over a spoon falling.
Your communication centre goes offline
- Sleep deprivation affects language processing first.
- Living abroad makes this painfully obvious — sometimes I feel like I don’t even speak English anymore.
- It becomes broken English with a side of mum‑grunting.
Your immune system weakens
- Deep sleep is when your body repairs itself.
- Without it, you get sick more often and recover more slowly.
- I’m honestly sick every two or three weeks at this point.
- It feels like I’m building my immune system alongside my son — except he’s levelling up and I’m levelling down.
Your memory suffers (hello, mom brain)
- Sleep deprivation affects the hippocampus — the memory centre.
- This is why I forget everything.
- I feel like the main character in Memento: sticky notes, Google Keep, random scraps of paper…
- And then I forget where I put the notes.
Your body stays in “emergency mode”
- Cortisol (stress hormone) stays high.
- This makes it harder to fall back asleep even when the baby finally does.
- Which is honestly the most devastating part.
Stories From Other Parents
One of my coworkers told me she didn’t sleep properly until her child was three years old. Three years! She said she had consequences from it, including memory issues — actual brain damage from sleep deprivation.
Meanwhile, other parents claim their babies slept through the night at a few weeks old. I try not to judge, but part of me wonders if they’re lying, blessed by the sleep gods, or raising a different species of baby.
The Big Question: Sleep Training or Not?
And then there’s sleep training. Does it actually work — and work in a way that feels right?
I want a good relationship with my child in the future. My generation was mostly sleep trained with the “cry it out” method, and I’m not convinced that sends a healthy message. Our parents probably did it because that’s what the experts told them at the time. But those experts were often men who had never met a baby and probably thought infants were just small adults with poor communication skills.
I don’t think their intentions were bad — they were trying to help working mothers survive. And as a working mum myself, I understand how impossible it feels to function without sleep. Adding a job on top of this exhaustion is… a heroic act that deserves medals, parades, and possibly tax breaks.
So here I am, wondering: Should I just keep going until my baby magically sleeps through the night? Or is there something I should be doing? Does it depend on me? Or on him? Or on the moon phase? Honestly, unclear.
Trying to Find a Way Forward
I’ve tried giving him to my husband to rock so he doesn’t rely on milk, but now he’s in a separation‑anxiety phase. He fights like a tiny MMA champion — kicking, pushing, scratching. Honestly, if toddler action movies ever become a genre, he’s ready.
Nights are the same. I don’t rush in immediately; I give him a few minutes. Sometimes he settles, but when he doesn’t, I try putting a hand on him — he pushes it away. I try hugging him — he kicks and screams even more. So much for a gentle transition.
Sometimes I feel like I could write and direct a horror movie about a lovely little baby who turns on his mama at 3 a.m.
And yes, I’ll do the rocking and patting and shushing… until it’s 4 or 5 a.m. and I’m so tired I can’t even move. At that point, I’m giving boob. Survival mode wins.
The Worst Part: When He Finally Sleeps… and I Can’t
This is honestly the most devastating part. There are nights when he finally goes back to sleep after the whole kicking‑screaming‑rocking‑patting circus… and then I can’t fall asleep.
My brain is too wired, too alert, too anxious, too overstimulated. It’s like my body forgot how to switch off.
So even when the opportunity to sleep finally arrives… I don’t.
And that’s when the exhaustion hits a different level.
The Husband Question
And then there’s the classic: “Why don’t you ask your husband?”
As if I’ve never considered that there is another adult in the house.
First of all, he doesn’t wake up for these noises. Second, if I need to wake him up to make our son sleep, how exactly does that help me sleep? Third, I’m a light sleeper. Do you think I can sleep when my husband and kid are playing The Exorcist in the next room?
Identity After Sleep Deprivation
I definitely miss my old self — or at least my old sleep. Even though I’m an overthinker, these days I think of the night as a second shift where I’m always in charge.
So don’t be surprised if I’m not the worker of the year, or lover of the year, or anything of the year. If I’m running on half a tank from the morning, where do you think I end up?
By now I think I’m doing okay, but I don’t rise with the sun, and my mornings are far from a Disney fairy tale.
The Emotional Contradiction
These days he has a stuffy nose, so he’s breathing like Darth Vader. It’s loud, dramatic, and honestly a bit funny.
And yet… I love watching him while he sleeps. He’s so cute and peaceful — a little angel.
Motherhood is full of contradictions like that.
A Reminder to Myself
I keep reminding myself that he won’t always need me like this. One day he’ll sleep, and I’ll sleep, and this fog will lift. And maybe I’ll even miss these nights — the closeness, the tiny hand reaching for me in the dark.nestly a bit funny.angelic. It’s wild how the same tiny human who kicks me in the throat at 3 a.m. can melt my heart at 6 a.m. That contradiction is motherhood in a nutshell.
If you’re in the thick of toddler life too, you might like my other post: Getting Out of the House With a Toddler.
