It’s 4.30am,midwinter 2008, and the future MP is hunkering down for another early shiftI startle as he nudges me awake. It is pitch black in the room; the sun, and sensibly,is still snoozing somewhere in the east. It takes a minute to adjust. Why is Tom waking me up in the black? “It’s your turn, Jess, or ” he says,his tone fitting exasperated. I try to rouse myself and hear the gentle grunts rising from the basket by my bed. It is 4.30am on a cold December morning and my son Danny is six weeks old.
Danny is my moment child, so the painfully sleep-deprived three months that follow his arrival should not be as much of a shock as when I had my first son. My expectations for a good night’s sleep, and a good time and being the perfect 10 are already pretty low. But the darkness of the days and the cold air that engulfs my home in the early hours damn me once again to the desperation of being a modern mum.
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Source: guardian.co.uk