My daughter turned four and a half today and I didn’t acknowledge that. I just finished tucking her in and it suddenly hit me. Guilt is approaching me right now like a giant wave, and there’s nowhere to go but surrender. I suck. I will, however, remember to acknowledge her brother’s 4th month birthday tomorrow, with the appropriate photo shoot and Facebook post…. Have I mentioned guilt? The ugliest kind…
I forgot my firstborn’s milestone today and even though I have “excuses”, I have no excuses. I suck. So what if I haven’t slept in weeks (and I’m not taking about the luxurious, refreshing scenario of 6 hours a night with 2 breaks for feedings), so what if her brother has lately been attached to my nipple every day and every night, all night, and won’t let go, so what if I can’t function and yet I do because there’s no alternative, so what if I feel like my body is going to completely shut down if I don’t find a way to take a break, to sleep, so what if I can’t process simple thoughts and feel like I’m sleep walking most of the time, so what if I need coffee to be able to talk, so what if I can’t find me, so what if there’s nothing outside of the immediate, urgent Mothering that I’m able to touch these days.
Unless cooking, cleaning, doing dishes, laundry and food shopping count. And my man. My man. Where is my man? I miss my man. I can hardly keep my eyes open when he gets home late at night. All I want is to be with him but the darkness of the night wins every single time. And as my body finally hits the bed, eyes already shut, my boobs are summoned for another night of unsuccessfully trying with all my power to remove my nipple from my baby’s mouth. When he lets go, I get sleep. I call it my night nap. Because it’s short (but not so sweet).
And the thing is that I’m so incredibly happy. I love being pregnant and loved giving birth and been so high on love ever since, so connected to the moment, so energetic and productive, even on not much sleep. But not much sleep has become close to none and the pure physical symptoms are infecting my mental and emotional world as well and so I feel like I’m drowning. So clear why sleep deprivation is a form of torture. You can probably get me to do anything for sleep now…. I ever started developing morbid fantasies. The other day I actually planned on checking myself into Hoboken hospital. They are so nice there, I thought, and their new maternity ward is lovely. They will surely take me and baby and care for us for a few days, giving me all the restorative sleep that I need with only short nursing breaks. A win win. But then I realized they would probably call child services so I ditched the plan.
I’m very well aware that it’s all very temporary. I know that sleep will fix everything (including my writing skills, please excuse my poor writing…). Even the intensely emotional way I currently perceive my daughter’s forgotten half birthday today. One day I will laugh at it. Hey, I can laugh at it now….I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t celebrate our half birthdays. And that for sure didn’t taint our perception of love.
Alright, entering the lion’s den. Nipples, you’re up.
