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Bouncing at four in the morning

2026-03-20

As my contribution to the students' zine "Sleepless Nights", edited by Grażyna Siedlecka, Kot, Marian Gogut, Julia Hałas and Tosia Pilinov, I proposed an essay on my experience as a young mother in the first weeks after giving birth to my son.

(...)
Time feels like a circle, definitely not linear — a tangled knot of needs and impossibilities; when it gets dark, you don't know if dusk is falling or dawn is breaking. Like leaving a club fifteen years ago, except now you never leave the house, and Saturday night's big achievement is making it to the end of a 30-minute episode of your favorite show. You fall asleep before the evening news; even the bedtime cartoon is for advanced players now. Babe often still watches it while you're already snoring in a half-sitting position, your son on your belly. Once he finally falls asleep, he won't let you put him down on the pillow next to you. All that's left is perfecting the art of sleeping sitting up. Really, it's more of a nap, longer or shorter, because you never reach deep sleep — that takes hours, and all you have is 20 to 40 minutes between feedings, cuddles, diaper changes, and rocking-him-in-the-night-near-dawn. You rock with your son on a gym ball until he falls asleep and turns heavy, limp, warm, until you feel his calm breath on your chest, his relaxed little farts, after which you usually have to get up and change him. During pregnancy you thought you'd use reusable diapers, because they're more eco-friendly. Now you use the cheapest, simplest disposables from Lidl. And you feel no guilt about it — you're just trying to survive and minimize the effort. Ethical choices are for the well-rested, and you haven't slept really in three months. A friend told you recently: "Don't worry, my daughter is two and she already sleeps through almost the whole night." The prospect of another 21 months without sleep doesn't exactly lift your spirits. Raising a child is a privatized state of emergency. Buses run, bakers bake, people dance in clubs, while you and your son rock back and forth at four in the morning.

Title page: Zofia nierodzinska Bouncing at Four in the mMorning
Bouncing at four in the morning
Time feels like a circle, definitely not linear — a tangled knot of needs and impossibilities; when it gets dark, you don't know if dusk is falling or dawn is breaking. Like leaving a club fifteen years ago, except now you never leave the house, and Saturday night's big achievement is making it to the end of a 30-minute episode of your favorite show. You fall asleep before the evening news; even the bedtime cartoon is for advanced players now. Babe often still watches it while you're already snoring in a half-sitting position, your son on your belly.
Bouncing at four in the morning
A text on the photo saying: Once he finally falls asleep, he won't let you put him down on the pillow next to you. All that's left is perfecting the art of sleeping sitting up. Really, it's more of a nap, longer or shorter, because you never reach deep sleep — that takes hours, and all you have is 20 to 40 minutes between feedings, cuddles, diaper changes, and rocking-him-in-the-night-near-dawn. You rock with your son on a gym ball until he falls asleep and turns heavy, limp, warm, until you feel his calm breath on your chest, his relaxed little farts, after which you usually have to get up and change him. During pregnancy you thought you'd use reusable diapers, because they're more eco-friendly. Now you use the cheapest, simplest disposables from Lidl.
Bouncing at four in the morning
And you feel no guilt about it — you're just trying to survive and minimize the effort. Ethical choices are for the well-rested, and you haven't slept enough in three months. A friend told you recently: "Don't worry, my daughter is two and she already sleeps through almost the whole night." The prospect of another 21 months without sleep doesn't exactly lift your spirits. Raising a child is a privatized state of emergency. Buses run, bakers bake, people dance in clubs, while you and your son rock back and forth at four in the morning.
Bouncing at four in the morning