It's not because of anything tangible. In fact, we've been spoiled by all the generous and good natured friends delivering us food in exchange for a turn holding the baby. I'm actually surprised at how many people have never held a newborn before. They all come in, looking for a turn holding him. And when they do, they gingerly cup his head and balance him with two hands like he's a breakable sculpture...every one who has come by has done this. It's pretty amusing.
And it's not the baby keeping me up at night that is making me so tired. In fact, he's been a good baby, sleeping all night and waking in the morning light, just like clockwork since day one.
He's also been doing a number of other things that are unbearably cute, such as sucking his fingers and finding his thumb, smiling and making newborn noises...(which aren't really that much to describe but are still adorable.) He is the first person who makes me melt by yawning at everything I say to him. He sticks out his tongue and my heart dissolves.
In the morning he tends to wake up in a good mood, sit around on a pillow for 30 to 45 minutes, just staring at things. Then, he eats, naps for two hours or so, wakes up, eats again, and then makes more noises and smiles some more.
The witching hour comes around 8 or 9 p.m. when the sun sets. Then he turns into the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde baby.
Oh, the screams. He eats, he screams. He poops, we change him, he screams. We swaddle him, he screams. We rock him. Screams. It's neverending and in the first two weeks I thought I would lose my mind. Nothing seemed to soothe him, not even a finger in him mouth, which usually pacifies him for a good 20-30 minutes.
He finally passes out after a 3-4 hour marathon, sometimes less, sometimes more. Around midnight, he is so over-tired he simply can't keep up the drama. He is knocked out for hours after that. We've managed to get him to sleep at 11:30 p.m., but that was the earliest he's ever gone down. It's usually midnight or 12:30.
Admittedly, my husband is far better at soothing him at night. He has the right temperament for it, and doesn't get upset easily, unlike me and my raging hormones. They're still finding their balance, apparently. And although my mood swings have calmed down considerably, there is the occasional "burst into tears" moment that I can't seem to contain.
The only thing I can reason when it comes to being exhausted is that I'm emotionally wrecked and still healing from the birth. The baby can be tiring, on occasion, especially when I just can't figure out what he needs from me. I tend to get frustrated and throw my hands up in the air more than I care to admit, but it's getting better, slowly but surely.
Also, the pain is pretty uncomfortable. I'm still trying to breast-feed, which has been no picnic. I won't give up, but I will complain about it. It hurts. A lot. I'm cracked and bleeding a lot, which leads to bloody breast milk. When I pumped the other day, it was pink, not white. And when the baby spit up clots of blood the other week, I freaked out. Then, we called the advice nurse and she explained it was most likely MY blood, and I freaked out some more.
Breast-feeding is a chore right now, but I'm anticipating a change soon. Hopefully, what everyone tells me is true...it will be better by the 1st or 2nd month. I'm holding out with a clenched jaw until then.
The pelvic pain has subsided somewhat, and the hemorrhoids have calmed down to a manageable state. But I'm still popping prescription Motrin and praying for my body to return to a normal state eventually.
Being in pain on top of being depressed, and then capping it off with caring for a newborn is what pushes me over the edge on bad days. If I was tackling one of those three things, it would be far easier for me to remain positive. But these three things all at once make me feel...well, exhausted.
No comments:
Post a Comment