wiped

I am wiped out.  So utterly exhausted that my days are blurring into one another and I feel very zombie-like most of the time.  I have moments of wondering when the night is going to turn into day only to realize that I’m on a night three nights later than when I first started thinking that.  Stephen comes home from work and asks me what’s for dinner and all I can do half the time is stare at him dumbly while my brain tries to figure out what he’s asking for.  It’s like wading through molasses in my head.

And my headaches have returned…  Some of you know what I’m referring to there.

Sleep when the baby sleeps.  Yes, I do that as much as I can but there’s a delicate balance you need to find between napping when she naps and using her nap period to do something productive like take a shower or eat or just something simple like picking up the coffee table.  Plus, while naps are great and I’m not looking down on them, they really aren’t truly restful sleep, especially when you’re jerked awake out of them by hungry cries.

I really hate to complain.  I hate that I’m so frustrated and so irritable and so ridiculously emotional lately.  I have this perfect, healthy, beautiful little girl who takes my breath away every time she looks at me.  When she’s quietly taking in the world around her and memorizing every single part of my face, it’s amazing and wonderful and I never want that moment to end.  When she falls asleep nestled on my chest and I feel her light, warm breath on my neck and hear the barely audible little coo on every exhale, I’m in heaven and could stay like that forever.  She’s starting to smile more and smile at me which is tremendous and makes my heart ache in an oh so great way when it happens.

Then it’s night and Stephen sleeps because he works long hours to provide for us and I don’t want to interrupt that.  His job isn’t easy and he doesn’t have the luxury of taking nap during the day if needed.  So I soldier through the crying and the feedings and the restlessness and the it’s-four-a.m.-but-I’m-awake-anyway moments by myself.  I get two, maybe three hours of uninterrupted sleep on a good night.  The rest of it is nursing, diapering, rocking, humming, walking, soothing, burping…..endless cycles only to be repeated about an hour or so later because she is growing and her little metabolism is in overdrive right now.

Three ounces of breastmilk digests super fast…

I know it will change and get better eventually.

I know that breastfeeding her is one of the best things I can give her so I’m determined to make it work no matter how tired and frustrated I feel.

I know that she isn’t being malicious and being up just to make my life harder.  She’s reacting to the most primitive of instincts right now and I have to meet that demand with as much patience and understanding as I can muster.

I know that she apologizes in her own little way when she smiles at me later the next day or when she grabs my shirt and holds on so tight while she’s nursing.

I feel so guilty complaining.  Parents of multiple children are probably rolling their eyes at me.  ”Gosh, wait till you have more!  You have it easy!”  It just gets lonely during the night and if I don’t get this out, I’ll implode.

Stephen called me amazing the other day and told me he was proud of me for being so determined.  I know it’s only been six weeks but hearing that helped.

I’m still just so tired…  Then she has a moment of awesome and it makes it a little easier.