My baby is sleeping through the night, and so I have transcended time, space, and pain. I did not realize that is what would happen! I wish you’d told me, all you people who asked me over and over if my baby was sleeping through the night. Maybe you figured there was no way I would understand what you were saying. After all, I had not yet transcended time, space, and pain!

Now that I have, though, I can see why your question — “IS HE SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT YET?” — is so important. You were wondering if IT had happened, if I had mentally exited this earthly realm and communed with my higher self. But how could you ask a question like that outright? No sleep-deprived new parent would know what to say! You were wise to downplay what awaited me and instead simply focus on my baby.

And that’s what I’m doing: focusing on my baby. And now that he’s sleeping all night and I am no longer bound to this temporal world, I am crushing motherhood! I am so at peace that when I get up in the morning and hear a baby crying, I don’t want that baby to STOP crying. Please continue, baby! I have transcended time, space, and pain, and the sound of a baby crying is as beautiful to me now as the sound of a rowboat’s oar cutting through a calm sea.

Now that my baby is sleeping through the night, I don’t feel even the slightest twinge of anxiety. About anything! Not my baby, not global warming, not eating enough fruits and vegetables, not even farting in public! (I do that all the time now.)

But I don’t need to be explaining this to you. You already know, that’s why you’ve been asking me if my baby is sleeping through the night since the day my baby was born. My god, it’s such a rush to finally be able to answer, “YES. He IS sleeping through the night, and I am on a fucking cloud right now!”

I actually feel boundless enough at this moment to admit that before I transcended time, space, and pain, I thought all of you were real jerks for asking me if my baby was sleeping through the night. It sounds crazy, but I thought you were just rubbing my sleep deficit (and the possible psychosis it was prompting) in my face. I thought you were subtly suggesting that I made a big mistake having this baby and that my baby really sucked for not sleeping the way babies should. Boy, did I not give you all enough credit. And boy, does it feel good to slough off that old cloak they call the “self.”


Things are actually going so well that I don’t need to sleep at all. What’s the point of sleep when time, space, and pain are non-factors in your life? I’m leaving that quotidian grind to laymen like my baby, and letting my consciousness soak up the untethered joy that exists when it is dark outside. Have you ever eaten leftover ginger noodles at 3 a.m. while enlightened? If not, you are missing out.

Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt myself, but I need to stop that woman holding a baby over there. I need to call out to her, “Cute baby! IS SHE SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT?” I’ll wink so she knows it’s an important question. And then I’ll tell her—I’ll tell her that I’m actually asking because I want to know if she’s also experiencing the time, space, and pain thing. If she is, I’ll tell her that I am too and isn’t it amazing? And if she isn’t, I’ll tell her not to worry, that her time is coming. And she’ll be like, “What a relief!”

I hope she’ll think it’s a relief. I don’t want her to think I’m bragging. I’ll probably have to downplay the time, space, and pain stuff. Actually, maybe I should just leave it out. It sounds pretty insane unless you’re experiencing it. And even then, it is pretty fucking insane!

“How old?” I ask her.

“Five months,” she smiles.

God, what a smug bitch.

“Is your baby sleeping through the night?”