Struggling to Adjust

It’s currently 5am (I started this at 8:45 last night ) and all I’m thinking about is how tired how I am. I literally just wish I could put my small baby down in her co-sleeper and get maybe three hours. I know that’s not going to happen though.. it’s wishful thinking. The moment I remove her from my chest, she’ll wake up. I just wish she could understand me when I say, “Mommy’s right here. It’s okay. I’m not going to leave you.”

But this is motherhood, right? You already know it’s going to be an adjustment, it’s going to be hard, and your going to be tired but what you don’t realize, is the extent of all these things. Oh, and let’s add loneliness in there too.

Let’s start with the obvious: tired. Lord Jesus, am I tired. Between the constant feedings (because she’s hungry), the comfort feedings ( I’ve got a fussy one on my hands), the constant holding (a recent development) and just the fact that she’s still a newborn on a newborn schedule…I’m exhausted. Some nights I’m at my wits end. Before I was pregnant, I could stay up until 1am, wake for work at 5 and “be tired.” However, when I got off work my butt would be in bed so quick, it didn’t even matter what I did the night before. It’s not the same when you’re a mom. There are no breaks or timeouts. You’re at the mercy of a tiny, little human who doesn’t realize they’re exhausting you…and they shouldn’t. They didn’t ask to be here. In reality, my little baby is just trying to live her best little life. Lord, bless her…this too shall pass.

I’ve already complained about breastfeeding but it really is a pain. It has gotten slightly better and I only say that because I’m at my dad’s this weekend and he has a reclining sofa. This sofa is a #gamechanger and I need one in my life. I’ve managed to set up a nursing/pumping station and actually kind of like it. That’s beside the point though. I thourohly thought that I was going to enjoy breastfeeding. I had built it up in my head that it would be this amazing experience between my little one and I. Then my gummy mouthed human entered the world and then entered her 3 week growing spurt. On top of that, I have a “comfort nurser” on my …breast ( I was going to say hands but she’s really on my chest). I feel as if I’m constantly nursing her. My nipples hurt. Sometimes my boobs are hard because it’s been ” awhile” (<—that’s a joke) since she’s nursed and sometimes that makes it harder to nurse. The only reason I’m not in full ‘I hate this’ mode is because I’m currently at my dads and like I said this reclining sofa is a godsend. I can nurse on one side, pump on the other and be fairly comfortable. And I get to build up a small supply for when we start transitioning to feeding her breast milk from a bottle before I head back to work. The weekend is almost over. I shall soon return home and be uncomfortable with breastfeeding all over again.

The last point I’m going to touch upon is loneliness and just hear me out. I love my little angel, I really do. If we’ve had a hard night all it takes is one little smile on her face and I know that’s her way of saying “thanks mommy. I love you,” and then I can’t help falling more in love with her. And although I have this new, wonderful addition in my life, I feel beside myself. Some nights her dad doesn’t even sleep in bed with me because “I get up too much” ( to take care of our child, genius) or he “watches” her for a few hours late in the evening so I can get 2-3 hours of uninterrupted sleep (which I do appreciate). However, for three weeks , and the rest of forever actually, all my limited¬†interactions have revolved around the child I’m current nursing. Literally nursing her as I write this. I have a good support system but now my days revolve around this little person that I’m never without. I can’t go and do what I please, I don’t have alone time. When I try and communicate these feelings of being upset or overwhelmed or feel like I’m by myself, I’m questioned and my thoughts are then delegitimized by someone who’s not me. Who doesn’t think the way I do, do what I do, feel like I do. It’s tough.

Would I trade my baby for anything in the world? No. Do I long for my time before I got pregnant and pushed her into the world? Sometimes. Can I imagine my life without her? Not at all. I know all of these things will pass: the exhaustion, the pain, the loneliness. I know the first day I drop her off at daycare and return to work, I’ll be worried and, most likely, hysterical. I know the first time she sleeps through the night I’ll panic and check to make sure she’s breathing like 100 times. I also know that a year from now when she’s just past her first birthday, I’ll read this and be like, “I miss her being so tiny.” Until these things happen, I’ll chalk it up to me being human and being new to motherhood.

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