Well, I knew it would happen. But perhaps I didn't think it would happen as quickly as IMMEDIATELY after I wrote the braggarty "sleep-sleep-sleep-all-the-time, don't stop sleepin', lovin' the sleep" post. Yes, sleep is for the weak.
I am weak.
I now live in the haze of that sleep-deprivation - lose your temper at the most minor of things, forget to do things like brush your teeth that day, or where you just want to break down and cry (or yell) because someone (you) forgot to buy more milk.
It's a low point. It's lonely. It's bleak and dark and (sometimes) scary because 2am-5am is a time in the day where the minutes feel like hours and the horizon of change seems very, very far away.
And unlike Maddie, you don't have any interest in pacifiers. Or swaddling. Or "shushing". You want to be held, and then you don't want to be held. You hate the Ovol drops that are supposed to help with those pull-up-the-legs-gas-cramps - so you spit out half the dropper back at me. You want to nurse so badly sometimes it's frantic, and then you pull and bite and clamp down and scream like it hurts. And then gobble-gobble you're back in there and fighting me when I try to de-latch for a burping-break.
Three weeks is hard, really hard, this time around. And you're not happy lately, and I haven't figured out the magic ingredient that will make things all better just yet. But I am trying, Katie. I promise I am trying...
Edited to add: I realize this post sounds a bit down. But I want this blog to be honest, not just a "look how wonderful you are week-after-week" recap of my girls' lives. I'm F.I.N.E. And I know things will change again - probably soon - maybe tomorrow. But in the meantime, this is our now. This is where I am. And hell - you're just lucky I didn't write the post at 4:30am this morning after being awake for 2+ hours of crying. Because this? Is effing Pollyanna-esque in comparison.