2.02.2013

No Rest for the Weary (or, "No, That Title Sums It Up")

Yesterday morning, I awoke to the thump-thump-thump of my daughter's footsteps running into my room, looked at the clock (6:01am), and tried very hard not to burst into tears.  My stoic face lasted for about 3 minutes.

Allow me to back up.  A lot has happened the past couple of months.  You know, little things like wrapping things up at work before a leave of absence, the holidays, the birth of my son -- I'll refer to him as CL.  I've been a parent of two for a bit over 3 weeks now.  For the most part, it's honestly been okay.  The most needy the baby gets is that he eats and farts constantly.  Usually at the same time.  HD has been pretty cool with the whole big sister thing.  She realized that the baby doesn't really do anything and that Mama & Daddy will still try their hardest to give her individual attention, so the most she interacts with CL is to occasionally pat his head or imitate my mama behavior on her baby doll.  Hubs spent 3 weeks at home on paternity leave, so that was really nice.  And we had 2 weeks of cleaning/HD playing assistance from my parents.  I do realize how easy I had it.

So what happened yesterday to set off waterworks?  Aside from the standard rush of post-partem hormones?  Mostly, I blame two days of only 10 hours of sleep.  Those folks who tell you to sleep with the baby is sleeping?  They may be well-intentioned, but I wager they are also the people who don't ever feel the need to do laundry or dishes or grocery shopping.  They probably also aren't trying to eat when the kid's asleep (sort of a must when you're breastfeeding a barracuda baby and ergo constantly starving).  And I guarantee that those people haven't encountered a baby who grunts/sings/snores in his sleep and who has a radar to start in on those noises the second that the adult in the room has finally nodded off.

Thursday night/Friday morning, I had been up with CL to feed him at 3:30am.  Hubs was in another room catching more sleep since he had gone back to work.  I don't fault him at all for this -- he does the burping/diapers during the first feeding shift (which is midnight-ish, usually).  Besides, it's not like he can feed a boob-only baby.  CL took an hour to feed, burp, change, and nod back off.  Then he started in with the grunting.  And weirdo little moans and cries in his sleep.  Which meant I didn't get to sleep until 5:20am myself.  Then the pitter patter (read, major foot thudding) of my daughter a good 45 minutes earlier than normal to wake me.  Begging me to find one of her lovies that was lost somewhere in the folds of her bed.  My toddler just doing what toddlers occasionally do.  Believe it or not, I did know that I signed up for this occasional behavior when I decided to become a parent.

I drag my exhausted, stinky (breastfeeding = weirdly major boob sweats every single freaking night), incoherent ass out of bed to her room.  I can't seem to find the damn lovie.  I utter a single sentence to plead with HD that it's still nighttime and she should get back in bed. Because she's 2.5 years old and a total morning person who wants milk & Yo Gabba Gabba now dammit, she starts to whine over this request.  And I sit on the floor of her room and bury my face in my hands, willing the tears to stop when they start spilling.  Advice to new or would-be parents -- try your effing hardest never to cry in front of your kids when they're little.  It scares your small child when you show a moment of true, fed-up weakness, especially if they in any way think it's their fault.  For reals.  Parents are toddlers' touchstones, their pillars of strength and knowledge.  When poor HD saw me, her steadfast mama who always has the answers to her questions, just start to lose it...well, it understandably freaked her out.  Full on screaming fit commenced at 6:05am, making it even harder for me to calm myself down, nevermind the kid.

Sure, exhaustion and frustration over lack of sleep kicked off the tears initially.  But I think what truly brought them on was the thought buried in the back of my head (and the heads of all mothers, everywhere) is the doubt that you'll ever be enough for your family.  The thought that there aren't enough hours in the day.  The feeling that you miss movie nights with your husband, and sex, and sleeping past 7am, and eating your supper slowly.  Worst, the thought that you're not present enough for your kids.  That you'd love to just play tea party with your daughter, but it's 5:45pm and you have to  make something nutritious for the family to eat.  That you want to take your son out in the stroller in the wintry sunshine, but the house needs to be vacuumed because the dust is causing the whole crew's allergies to act up.  That you want to kiss your husband, but you still haven't had time to brush your teeth in the 4 hours you've been up already.  Normally, I'm pretty good at taking all these things one at a time.  But that particular moment, every doubt in myself and my abilities backed up on me all at once.  

So Friday morning at the first onset of HD's tantrum, Hubs hightailed it upstairs to relieve me.  God bless that man (although he did clock about 2 hours more sleep than I did, so I didn't feel too bad that he woke).  Still blurry-eyed himself, he shuffled me to our bedroom, told HD I needed to rest, and got her all calmed and ready for the day and shipped off to daycare.  I breathed deeply, fed and cuddled my newborn son, and managed to get him back to sleep.  I turned off the tv, peeled off my smelly spit-up crusted pajamas, and made myself lay back in bed.  Slept for another hour.  Was lucky enough to score a shower since CL was still asleep when I got up.  That evening, I played Wizard of Oz with HD.  I joked with Hubs about our Superbowl plans (they're non-existent, hence the funny), and sang silly songs to CL.  I did my job as a mama, and I tried to grab fun doing it when I could.


1 comment:

  1. I am in awe of you, D. I really am! Tears welled up as I read this post. I feel for you!! I have been having the exact same feelings you mention, about how long it's going to be until I get to do "me" things again. And I've been reading so many articles online about how moms these days feel so much more pressure than before, so it's not just us. Big, big hugs to you, my friend. And please don't clean up for us.

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