This will happen:
One night, you will tenderly feed your offspring in the usual way, at the usual time. You will then blunder to bed (couch/cushion/futon/nest of your choice) and tumble into your usual non-REM sleep of black and utter exhaustion.
[N.B. - of late, I've been waking every two hours for feedings with one eye dry and itchy. This means I've been sleeping with an eye half-open. Yes, that tired. Grossy-gross.]
But this will happen:
When you wake, it will be light outside. Birds will sing. Traffic will rumble. You will look at your clock. A blast of adrenaline will momentarily paralyze you, utterly, utterly. Oh, God, it's morning. You are the world's worst mother. You have slept through all the night feedings. Your offspring has starved, pitifully crying, abandoned, alone, in the cold dark hours.
You will then levitate yourself into furious action and rush to your offspring's side (leaping stairs four at a time if you have stairs in the house). Whereupon you will find said offspring . . .
. . . probably with a pretty squishy diaper . . .
. . . peacefully sleeping . . .
. . . not missing you one little bit.
Behold, a new era has begun.
This hasn't happened yet in this house, either. But it will happen. Hang tough, mamas everywhere.