I'm getting a little better at this mom stuff, I think, at least in that I'm no longer freaking out when something usual happens. Like sleep strikes. The first time Sofia inexplicably went on a sleep strike for 24 hours, around three weeks old, both Brett and I worried and fretted and finally called the doctor to make sure she wasn't sick or injured or just, well, malfunctioning in some way. We were anxiety personified. What was wrong with her? What were we supposed to do? Would she ever sleep again? (Answers: nothing, nothing, and yes of course.)
Yesterday, when she did it again out of the blue, I barely blinked an eye. Sure, I moaned a little when she was up for all but two hours the night before and then stayed up and skipped both her morning and afternoon naps, but I didn't worry about it. I knew that it was just a thing that happens to some babies around growth spurts, and would most likely be followed by one of my favorite things - an Extremely Tired Baby day. Which came today.
I feel -- calm. Almost competent.