Men are never going to lose any sleep over crying children

The findings of new research into tiredness will be yawningly obvious to every woman reading them: become a mother and your chances of a restful night’s sleep are dramatically reduced; the more children you have the higher those odds become stacked against you.

Unsurprisingly, this American study also found that men’s sleep patterns are entirely unaffected by parenthood, although my husband might disagree.

He often complained of painful shins on waking when our three daughters were babies – injuries that were the direct result of me kicking him in them while he snored loudly through various night feeds.

Of course, bruises soon fade; resentment towards the inert lump lying next to you while you rock a fractious child to sleep tends to only become more deeply ingrained the more times you do it.

Which is why I’m unsure as to why the study’s leader, Dr Kelly Sullivan, from Georgia Southern University, felt the need to bother stating that this research proves mothers are disproportionately affected by parenthood when it comes to sleep.

On this basis, I can confidently predict that Dr Sullivan’s next startling piece of research will be entitled “Childbirth: it doesn’t seem to hurt men one bit”.

I used to wonder why my children, long after they stopped needing me to breastfeed them in the night, continued to seek me out for a glass of water or reassuring cuddle whenever they woke in the small hours. They’d clamber over their father – a perfectly loving and capable man – or navigate a pitch-black room to get to my side of the bed, so that I alone could attend to their needs.

Whenever I wailed “Why can’t Daddy help you?” I was greeted with incredulity from the small person tugging on my covers. They simply couldn’t understand why I didn’t appreciate the honour being bestowed upon me as the chosen parent in their hour of need.

Did I make a rod for my own back not getting them onto a bottle so that their father could get up with them as newborns? Did breastfeeding somehow imprint me on their psyche as the night-time caregiver forever more?

I suspect the truth is more prosaic and they simply realised early on in life that Dad could sleep through even maximum-decibel wailing and still wake up infuriatingly refreshed the next morning. Meanwhile, Mum could be counted on to pick up on the sound of nocturnal pattering at 20 paces; once awake, she wouldn’t be able go back to sleep until she knew the culprit was safely back in bed.

It was that realisation that prompted me to start using silicone earplugs several years ago, thinking deafness might make me as immune to their demands as their father was. No such luck – they would simply shake me out of my slumber instead, making me wake with a pounding heart, wondering where the fire was.

However, our girls are now 21, 18 and 10 and sleepless nights are, thankfully, a thing of the past. They generally sleep like tops and so do I, even when the older two are out partying. My trusty earplugs protect me from the sound of their heels clattering in the hall at whatever ungodly hour they return home.

Not so their poor father, who can’t sleep a wink until he knows his girls are all safely tucked up in bed. I think that’s what they call poetic justice.