BEEP, BEEP. WAH, WAH.

Growing up, kids my age went through a variety of 'must-have' crazes. There was the year of the Skip-It, Pokemon trading cards, gel pens, pogs and trick yo-yos to name a few.

But perhaps the most memorable/favorite toy peer-pressured purchase of adolescence was my yellow kitty Giga Pet. After jealously watching my BFs with their adorable little pixelated monkeys and puppies, I couldn't wait to play mommy to my own little digital baby.

I'm sure I spent that entire first day with my eyes glued to the screen. Feeding her little fish heads, playing with the yarn ball, giving her medicine, putting her to sleep, etc., etc., etc. By that first night, I was convinced that I was the best virtual pet parent the world had ever seen.

Lovingly, I placed her on the shelf above my bed, already excited to get her out again in the morning and show her off to my friends. Smiling, I nestled in and started to drift when..

"BEEP."

My eyes popped open. "Huh, she must not be sleepy yet. Better check on her." Apparently kitty still wanted to play. "Go to sleep", I told her.

Convinced that was the end of that, I settled down again, ready for an un-interrupted 8-hours of dreamy bliss before school the next day.

"BEEP." I pretended it hadn't happened. You know, cry-it-out method. "BEEP. BEEP."

A hint of concern crept into the corner of my mind. Why was she still beeping at me?? Once again, I patiently activated her screen to find that she was dancing around a steaming Hershey kiss. So as any good parent would, I begrudgingly cleaned up her mess, determined that this HAD to be the end of it.

I once again laid back down, with the covers wrapped a little more tightly around my ears perhaps, and made it a full five minutes before.. "BEEEEEP."

Frantically, I sat-up. And did what any other loving mother would do: started bawling.

It didn't take long for my own mother to arrive on the scene (quite confusedly, I'm sure) and eventually deduce my hysterics stemmed from a new toy that 'WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE AND WOULDN'T STOP BEEPING ALREADY!'

"For goodness sakes!" she responded, "Don't leave it by your bed at night then!"

"Oh.." I instantly calmed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Fast-forward 15 years, and I'm a new mom to a brand-spanking-new little 7 lb. 15 oz. ball of adorableness. I had loved being pregnant, feeling all of her little kicks and wiggles and constantly carrying around my little best friend with me.

And my delivery had been wonderful, with the nurses insisting that I 'had to be at least a 1 or a 2 on a pain scale of 10' when I insisted that I was really a 0.

So there I sat in our little hospital room, once the visitors had subsided and the day had become night. I knew exactly what to do. I had been labeled the baby whisperer repeatedly over the preceding decade or so. I couldn't count the number of times I had played 'mom' to my 20+ nieces and nephews, and there wasn't a one of them that I couldn't calm to sleep within minutes.

I cradled my sweet baby (still so surreal to say), nursed her to sleep and lovingly placed her in her plastic, inclined nursery bassinet, already excited to get her out again in the morning and show her off to my friends. Smiling, I nestled in and started to drift when..

"WAH."

My eyes popped open. "Huh, she must not be sleepy yet. Better check on her." Apparently Tiny still wanted to play. "Go to sleep", I told her.

Convinced that was the end of that, I settled down again, ready for an un-interrupted 4-5 hours of dreamy bliss before she needed to eat again.

"WAH. WAH-WAH"

A hint of concern crept into the corner of my mind. Why was she still crying at me?? Once again, I patiently re-swaddled, bounced and carefully deposited her in her cradle, determined that this HAD to be the end of it. I didn't even make it back to my hospital bed before she once again protested. My mind immediately scanned for possible solutions.

The husband was presently snoring, wedged in his little chair pull-out bed, dead to the world. I could sense he would not be a viable option.

So as any good parent would, I swallowed my pride and called for help. Before giving birth, I had so naively assumed that I would keep her by my side at all times during our stay. It surprised me how quickly I was ready to send her off for a bunch of strangers to take care of in the nursery.

Two-days later, we are home. The endorphin high has worn off, leaving in its place exhaustion. Our little Tiny's nursery is no where near completion, and she's decided she hates sleeping alone in the pack-n-play in our room. Time loses all meaning as I groggily try to find a solution that will get her to sleep for, please-o-please, at least a few hours.

I eventually give in and put her in the bed between us. It only takes a few hours of this before I drive myself crazy with worry that one of us will smother her or that she will roll over and smother herself in our plush pillow top. I stumble around upstairs, trying to find the bouncy seat that I pray will be the solution to this problem and fall down the stairs in my stupor.

This has to be one of the 2nd or 3rd worst nights of my life.

By the time dawn is cresting over the mountains, the husband is awoken to our baby's pitiful cries and my own inconsolable sobs as I repeat, "I can't keep doing this! I'm going crazy!!"

And then, as if through time and space, I remembered.. this had happened to me once before. And I had received some very sage advice at the time, advice that I need to once again employ.

"For goodness sakes!" I could hear my mother saying, "Don't leave her by your bed at night then!"

"Oh.." I abashedly remembered. "Why didn't I think of that?"

And so it was that Tiny's nursery was completed in a whirlwind, and I learned the hard (very, very hard) honest truth about motherhood. Not only did she wake up every 3-4 hours, at best, it took at least an hour to keep her awake for a full feeding, change her, rock her and get her back to sleep (sometimes easier said than done) before it would all start again 1-2 hours later.

I had thought I knew everything about being a mother. I'm embarrassed to look back and remember it. In the past, I had felt jealously upon hearing of a new mother and her precious bundle, but my experience has wisened me.

Now when I hear of a new baby, I instantly pray for their mother. I have to bite my tongue at baby showers, debating between laying the whole horrible truth on them and letting them be innocently optimistic for a little while longer. And when I do share a few hard to swallow details, I remind them that I do so 'not to scare them.. to prepare them'.

And finish with the best news of all: in a few short- (hah!) hellishly long weeks, their baby will start to sleep through the night. Then they will see that first newborn smile, hear that first baby laugh, feel that first toddler hug and have the best (very, VERY best!) feeling in the whole entire world.

It's now been a little over a year, and I can hardly remember those tear-filled days and endless nights. They are but a post on my Timehop app and twinkle in my eye.

Now, every morning after a solid 12-hour nighttime slumber (woop!), I can't wait to burst in her room and scoop my not-so-Tiny-any-more up and thank God that I am so blessed to be her mom.

And someday, when she begs to have the latest digital pet (in HD, I'm sure), I'll knowingly smile and remember.