‘I can’t get no sleep.’
Which, loosely translated, means ‘I find it difficult to get enough sleep at night at the moment.’
Maybe it’s my insomnia. I’ve been plagued by varying degrees of sleeplessness for about 20 years now, never quite enough to force me into seeking medical intervention, but enough irritate and slowly drive me into psychosis.
When it’s bad, like last week, I find myself awaking at four in the morning, apropos of nothing. I toss and turn for an hour or so, count sheep, curse Morpheus richly and then finally, as I prepare to give up on sleep and get out of bed, I finally fall asleep.
Just about 10 minutes before my alarm goes off.
My analyst once suggested that the hour of my awakening may be connected to the number of children my parents had (four). I stopped seeing her not very long after she shared this pearl of wisdom. I didn’t need to pay anyone more money that I could afford to be told that my siblings drive me crazy.
A friend suggested that it may be connected to M’s restlessness. Apparently she wakes up repeatedly at night to use the bathroom. She also, apparently, finds it difficult to get to sleep at night because it takes her a while to get into a comfortable position, what with LJM’s bump and all.
The key to interpreting the preceding paragraph lies in the word ‘apparently’. I am fairly certain that M’s nocturnal difficulties have nothing to do with my interrupted sleep, because I tend to shut down the second my head hits the pillow, and I am then blissfully unaware of my wife’s sleeping routine.
(Thinking about the last paragraph, this may set a dangerous precedent. I genuinely want to do ‘fair’ my share of midnight feeds after LJM is born, but I seem to be quite good at sleeping through night-time disturbances. We’ll see.)
Anyway, most nights, with nothing else better to do than to stare at the ceiling and/or listen to M mutter in Hebrew, I start to think about what life will be like after the birth of LJM.
I’ve been told more times than I can count that our lives will change irreversibly after the birth. My life will no longer belong to me. I will no longer have spare money for CDs, books, alcohol, cigarettes etc. I will no longer have any peace. I will always sleep with one ear cocked to catch the slightest hint of sleep disturbance from He-Who-Will-Be-Obeyed.
Strangely enough, everyone describes these changes as Good Things.
Actually, not strangely enough. It’s not so much the nature of the changes that worry me, but the pace – y’know, one day you are a carefree, independent, irresponsible thirtysomething. Then next, you’re, like, responsible for the mewling bundle of joy across the room. And it’s the responsibility issue that tends to occupy me most nights.
It’s not that I am thoroughly irresponsible. I’ve managed, over the years, to hold down a paying job, pay my taxes, minimise my anti-social and law breaking behaviour, for example. I even have a mortgage, for goodness sake.
My problem with responsibility lies more with the expectation that it is accompanied by advance thinking. Forward planning. With trying to anticipate what the future holds for us and how best I can prepare for it.
I’m not at all like Michael Hestletine (Hestletine, famously, allegedly plotted his political career on a back of an envelope during a boring lecture whilst he was an undergraduate at Oxford. It ended, according to the plan, with him becoming Prime Minister. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t at the time met an Oxford contemporary of his, a certain Margaret Hilda Roberts.) In fact, I’m not very big on forward thinking or planning or anticipation. Generally speaking, I tend to stumble from one day to the next, hoping for the best. In my defence, I must say that this approach has served me reasonably well. I am still alive after all. And I am remarkably good at NOT playing the ‘what if…’ game. (For example – ‘what if I had practiced Law?’ or ‘What if I had been 6’2”, devastatingly good looking, ultra-intelligent and good-humoured?’ You know – impractical flights of fancy.) I think this principle is a conscious extension of Nixon's famous dictum, stated to David Frost when Frost asked him if he had any regrets at all about the whole Watergate affair: 'Don't be like Lot's wife; never look back.'
This is all very well when the consequences of ones actions or inactions can only be visited upon one person, namely me. Of course, one starts to think about these things a little more carefully after marriage. If, for example, I walked out of my job in a strop tomorrow, M would have to feed and clothe me until I am gainfully employed again. (She does feed and clothe me now. But that’s for totally different reasons, and doesn’t count.)
However, once LJM arrives, it does change. We are responsible for him. Our decisions about how we choose to live our lives will have an immediate and quite possibly permanent impact upon him. It’s no longer enough to shrug one’s shoulders and say, ‘I’ll deal with the consequences.’ Because I won’t be the only one to deal with the consequences. And, in that paradoxical way that life works, the one least able to influence the actions around him will probably be the one who will suffer the most.
So this kind of stuff runs through my mind at night. That and trying to figure out why Bob Dylan still has a recording contract.
(Oh, incidentally, my sister suggested Dylan as a proper name for LJM. I promised her I would think about it. Well I have, and my answer is that there is no way on God’s earth that I will name any child of mine after that lecherous, talentless 60s refugee. Think of it. Each time I think of my first born, Mr Zimmerman’s wheedling, whining croak will force its way into my head. No…too unhealthy. Sorry!)
Enough of responsibility. It’s making my head throb.
M went to Holland for a conference last week, so I did a little more DIY. This time I painted the living room. Did quite a good job too, even if I say so myself.
Then I went to Holland myself, and we spent our second wedding anniversary together in Amsterdam. Nice and relaxing…
Apparently, the Dutch police will, if asked nicely, make police station facilities available to pregnant women who have been...caught short.
I begged M, pleaded with her, threatened her. Would she join the spirit of genuine scientific inquiry? Like hell she would.
As for LJM? He seems to wake up round about the time we go to bed. Something of a nocturnal animal, it seems. Just like his father J
He has also started to kick a bit, particularly if he is disturbed (still just like his father, then). Maybe this is the time to start playing soothing, relaxing music…yeah right. I am damned if I am going to play any child of mine Mozart. I am responsible for him and I refuse point blank. Ditto Dylan.
Any suggestions? Useful comments will be welcome. I think I’ll draw up a playlist and share it with you all next time.
Nighty night.
hey
i have read this 'little' essay! i didnt know you felt like this.....which explains why u havent felt well at work today.
i hope u do get some sleep 2nyt. im sure its all the nerves of having a new life in YOUR life! yes u will still be able to do all the normal things like buying cd's etc BUT NOT CIGS!!! bad habit! at first it wil be hard work but all worth it. trust me. my bro looks after the baby during the day and his wife at night. it is hard but i can see how attached he is becoming to her. she has brought happiness to us and no matter wat mood ur in, a baby always makes you smile. just the thought of looking at them - it makes you wonder how they must feel. scared to be in an environment they dont know, strange faces etc.
anyway let me stop as this is not my area of subject, at the mo im looking for a 'good' 'man'
but i hope u get lots of sleep 2nyt.
see you at work!
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