Baby D was such a good sleeper until we stopped nursing last weekend. I'm hoping this has something to do with teeth or a cold he caught at ECFE but every now and then guilt wins. I am a bad mother. I quit too early. The rest of the world nurses their babies until they are two.
We made it nine months which is longer than I thought we would. I would have been thrilled if we'd made it six months. (Maybe I have said all this already.) He still doesn't have teeth which may have played a significant role. The rational part of me suggests I should be proud of what I have achieved instead of upset at what I have not. Welcome to the story of my life. (Malmberg Cousin Underachievers unite!!)
So, anywho, now D and I get up at twice at night and for good at 5 a.m. This is not enough sleep for me. I need 8++ hours. I am deeply tired. (If you remember the show "Square Pegs," I am totally tired. Totally.) This does not bode well for my ability to function. In my mind, everything I do is not nearly good enough. My house is a mess. I weigh too much. I spend too much. My roots are hideous. I am lonely. I talk to myself a lot. Today a lady at Target tried to engage me in conversation at the clearance rack and I nearly told her she had interrupted my in-depth conversation with Baby D over what size he thought he'd be in six months.
I try to remind myself to be grateful I am not a prairie pioneer girl getting my sod hut ready for winter. Sometimes this works.
You are a phenomenal mother. I marvel at your ability to not only survive, but reign victorious in a world of dirty diapers, 5:00 a.m. awakenings and everything else I know you hold in your heart. I sincerely appluad you, because I know I will never be in that place where I can do what you do.
ReplyDeleteI love you, my dear sister. For who you are, for who you want to be, and for the friend you have been to me.
Sleep well - and fast.
Hugs,
Sylvie