Quick bits - this too shall pass?
So, what I have come to realize is that I keep trying to write novels in here. (OK, not so surprising to anyone following along maybe...) Anyway, I wait and wait to write when I have plenty of time, and by then there is so much saved up to say that it can't possibly be done at one sitting. Resolving here to try and throw things in when they come, including bits from the past that haven't made it in yet. Might result in some flashbacks and things out of time, but how is that different from the way I feel these days anyway?
About a week now without sleep, meaning not more than three hours at a stretch. It's all sortof been a snowball. First, she didn't poop all last weekend. We're working on solids, and since she doesn't like or know lots of things yet, a "balanced" diet is not quite reality. So, days w
ith too much poop, days with no poop. Three days without, and Tuesday resulted in literally an explosion of the most poop my au pair had ever seen. She said it was amazing, and they spent half a day cleaning both of them up. Of course, Emma felt much better afterwards! But, her nap went astray that afternoon, leading to a somewhat off night. Wednesday, workers came to install a humidifier, banging, clanging, again no nap, little rougher night. Thursday, bug guy came to kill the little creatures in our pasta cabinet, cleaning woman came, no nap, no sleepy... A pattern is emerging? Friday I came home, after a glorious evening off having my hair cut and colored and pampered in general, to find Glen sick and Emma with a low fever and cranky. Sleep? Sleep? Found myself at two in the morning with Emma in the bed and Glen in the bathroom, sounding like he was going to die and claiming he now knows what childbirth feels like. While I doubt anything feels quite like childbirth, suffice it to say he clearly felt pretty bad. Saturday, although he felt better, somehow got even worse, with Jesse up and wandering, Emma refusing to come unattached, even in bed with me. 2, 3, 4, in the morning, me and Emma both crying in bed as I struggle with trying to coax her into her own crib, bassinett, anywhere but hanging from me... I begin to wonder if it's possible to wean her, if it's right, can anything that causes this much distress be right? Despairing that she will ever be weaned, sad that she will be weaned - is it me? Can I really commit to this? Am I wimp if I don't? Am I a bad mom if I do? All I want is to see her smile every morning... Last night, Sunday night, just topped everything. Finally had a bit of peace nursing her to sleep and watching the snow fall through the dark. So quiet and beautiful. I felt good and hopeful that things would be better, or that at least I would be better able to handle everything. For once in a long time, felt God's love wrapping around us and it all felt so right again. Shattered spectacularly when she would not not not be put in her crib for the hundredth time and I finally fled, leaving her wailing... Glen tried to help, he really did. He went up and comforted her, tried giving her a bottle, but of course all she 
wants is me so after awhile he left her too. Sometimes I think it's easier for Glen at times like this - he seems to take for granted that there's nothing he can do (at least at night), and this relieves him of the burden of trying, so left to struggle with when to go to her, when to stay away, feelings of despair that this will ever get better, feelings of failure when I can't take it and give in to her demands for the breast, questioning whether this is the right thing to do, aware that without weaning we will never get that time away... And will I ever get pregnant again with all this stress and her still at my breast? I finally laid a bed for us on her floor again, knowing I simply couldn't abandon her alone, I just couldn't, hoping that at least my being there will reassure her that she is loved, even if she's not nursing. Watched her throw herself around in her tantrum and tried to cuddle and comfort without giving in to her demand. Just when I thought I couldn't do it another second, lo and behold - sleep. She literally passed out from one second to the next. Amazed, I hardly dared breathe Of course, nothing can be that easy. She fell asleep on her stomach, something she has never EVER done before. Since she's still sniffly from her cold, and even more so after more than an hour of crying, and after giving her some motrin, I was suddenly plunged into the sleep-deprived bleary fear that she would suffocate. Still amazingly, I did get her into her crib, where she again refused to stay on her back. Where did this come from? Glen was finally able to get her rolled at least onto her side, and I fell into fitful and terrified sleep. In the end, she slept through the night, but I got up three times to check on her. Please, Lord, please...
About a week now without sleep, meaning not more than three hours at a stretch. It's all sortof been a snowball. First, she didn't poop all last weekend. We're working on solids, and since she doesn't like or know lots of things yet, a "balanced" diet is not quite reality. So, days w
ith too much poop, days with no poop. Three days without, and Tuesday resulted in literally an explosion of the most poop my au pair had ever seen. She said it was amazing, and they spent half a day cleaning both of them up. Of course, Emma felt much better afterwards! But, her nap went astray that afternoon, leading to a somewhat off night. Wednesday, workers came to install a humidifier, banging, clanging, again no nap, little rougher night. Thursday, bug guy came to kill the little creatures in our pasta cabinet, cleaning woman came, no nap, no sleepy... A pattern is emerging? Friday I came home, after a glorious evening off having my hair cut and colored and pampered in general, to find Glen sick and Emma with a low fever and cranky. Sleep? Sleep? Found myself at two in the morning with Emma in the bed and Glen in the bathroom, sounding like he was going to die and claiming he now knows what childbirth feels like. While I doubt anything feels quite like childbirth, suffice it to say he clearly felt pretty bad. Saturday, although he felt better, somehow got even worse, with Jesse up and wandering, Emma refusing to come unattached, even in bed with me. 2, 3, 4, in the morning, me and Emma both crying in bed as I struggle with trying to coax her into her own crib, bassinett, anywhere but hanging from me... I begin to wonder if it's possible to wean her, if it's right, can anything that causes this much distress be right? Despairing that she will ever be weaned, sad that she will be weaned - is it me? Can I really commit to this? Am I wimp if I don't? Am I a bad mom if I do? All I want is to see her smile every morning... Last night, Sunday night, just topped everything. Finally had a bit of peace nursing her to sleep and watching the snow fall through the dark. So quiet and beautiful. I felt good and hopeful that things would be better, or that at least I would be better able to handle everything. For once in a long time, felt God's love wrapping around us and it all felt so right again. Shattered spectacularly when she would not not not be put in her crib for the hundredth time and I finally fled, leaving her wailing... Glen tried to help, he really did. He went up and comforted her, tried giving her a bottle, but of course all she 
wants is me so after awhile he left her too. Sometimes I think it's easier for Glen at times like this - he seems to take for granted that there's nothing he can do (at least at night), and this relieves him of the burden of trying, so left to struggle with when to go to her, when to stay away, feelings of despair that this will ever get better, feelings of failure when I can't take it and give in to her demands for the breast, questioning whether this is the right thing to do, aware that without weaning we will never get that time away... And will I ever get pregnant again with all this stress and her still at my breast? I finally laid a bed for us on her floor again, knowing I simply couldn't abandon her alone, I just couldn't, hoping that at least my being there will reassure her that she is loved, even if she's not nursing. Watched her throw herself around in her tantrum and tried to cuddle and comfort without giving in to her demand. Just when I thought I couldn't do it another second, lo and behold - sleep. She literally passed out from one second to the next. Amazed, I hardly dared breathe Of course, nothing can be that easy. She fell asleep on her stomach, something she has never EVER done before. Since she's still sniffly from her cold, and even more so after more than an hour of crying, and after giving her some motrin, I was suddenly plunged into the sleep-deprived bleary fear that she would suffocate. Still amazingly, I did get her into her crib, where she again refused to stay on her back. Where did this come from? Glen was finally able to get her rolled at least onto her side, and I fell into fitful and terrified sleep. In the end, she slept through the night, but I got up three times to check on her. Please, Lord, please...
posted by me at 6:46 AM
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