Okay, so everybody knows that when you have a newborn you don’t sleep. Get your sleep now, they joke with a twinkle in their twisted eyes, knowing that it’s an impossible request.

You’re pregnant. You have a sore back, twitchy legs, and a stupid body pillow that smooshes into your face and falls flat under your knees because you didn’t shell out the big bucks for the good one. You’re not sleeping.

And then the baby comes.

Let’s all just take a minute to appreciate that this beautiful creature who has forever changed your life, has also ripped away your last chance of restful sleep with her chubby little fingers.

And even though every picture you have is of a sleeping angel, you know the real story. Every two hours you’re strapped to her, crying because the milk won’t come and when it does, the latch is wrong, and you’re so overcome with fear and worry and dread that all you do is stare into the darkness, wishing your phone was three inches closer or that you peed before, or grabbed the now freezer-burnt granola bars you so thoughtfully batch-cooked for moments like these. But it’s three in the morning and you’re trying to calm down a baby who has no concept of time. You’re not sleeping.

Yeah, so all that is a given.

But what about toddler sleep? Potty training, stalling, big beds, nightmares, random 4 a.m. screams, 5 a.m. wake-ups, and the dreaded click, “Mommy? I need something,” coming from the top of the stairs as soon as you sit down with your tea and a blanket, like a retiree having her nightcap.

It’s hard. I’m tired. My husband is tired. That’s just the way life is at the moment.

I’ve got no wisdom to impart here. But I do know that no matter what, I will continue to shuffle out of bed, huddled in a blanket with my eye mask pushed up against my forehead, just to give her a sip of water that she could have easily reached herself, if only to give her another little kiss goodnight.

“Mommy, you’re not sleeping.“

I know, kiddo. Game recognize game.