It’s 5:40 am and the baby is awake. Again. She’s been up multiple times because she’s cutting a bear of a tooth. You nurse her back to sleep and decide to put her back in her crib rather than keeping her in bed with you. Why? Because in her crib she might, just might, sleep a tiny bit longer and if she’s not right there in bed with you there’s no doubt that you’ll sleep much, much better. (She does this thing, where she plucks at my skin in her sleep. Drives. me. up. the. wall. oh, and makes it hard to sleep.)
You quietly sit up and hoist the sleeping child into your arms, swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand up, and as you move away from the bed you catch your foot on a sharp screw on the bottom of the bed frame. You don’t swear. You don’t cry out. You just. keep. moving. You gently deposit the baby in her crib and hesitate. Do you go to the bathroom to see how much the scratch is bleeding or do you go back to sleep?
It’s OK though. There wasn’t too much blood on the sheets when I woke up. And I did manage to ignore the throbbing long enough to get another hour of sleep. What can I say, when you’re a tired mom your priorities change pretty radically. Sleep trumps all, except maybe a severed limb, but only because all that blood would make it too sticky and wet to sleep comfortably. And it might smell a bit.