Today I felt the full spectrum of #momlife, in one small moment.
In the last year I have blogged an amazingly disappointing amount. That's just a fact. What I hate even more, is the weeks that go between the pages in my personal journal. These are the most important days of my life, and yet I'm writing about them far less then every other day of my life. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the psychology behind that...maybe I wrote more because back then my brain needed more distraction, and I needed more time to process my thoughts, and understand my days, where as now my feelings are obvious, and I know that this is where I am supposed to be, and this is my life. #mombrain is something that lasts far beyond 'new mommyhood', I'm not even going to try to ponder all that right now. I know though, that a big part of why I don't write, or type is exhaustion. And the fact that there aren't enough hours in the day anymore! And also, I now run a small business that's heavily social media based, so while I used to journal regularly in the bathroom (where I've always had to spend too much time), I'm now answering emails and using adorable apps to create adorable graphics for my adorable Instagram contests. (Case in point, I started typing this two days ago...)
All of which is beside the point. Except for the exhaustion. That is in fact the whole point. And the exhaustion peaked today.
In the first few months of being a parent you're amazed to learn how little sleep you need to survive. Or perhaps you simply ignore the tired ache in your brain, because 'they're a baby and they're supposed to be up all night long!' I also didn't care much about accomplishing anything but keeping my baby alive and happy in those first few months. I've always hated laundry, vacuuming could be done another day because it's not like he's crawling around yet, I definitely don't NEED to shower (just change my undies and my spit-up covered clothes every day) because there's an abundance of perfectly capable baby wipes everywhere I look! I was also already sick enough from the Endometriosis that was semi-dormant while pregnant, that I didn't have to spend much time eating. Any 'free time' I had could be spent sleeping when he slept, and I loved it. He made the schedule, and I went with it. And I loved him so much I didn't care if I ever slept again!
Months later, it's not that I don't love him that much anymore. In fact I'm amazed every single day because I love him more then yesterday, when yesterday I already thought there was no way I could love anything any more then I love him! Eventually the house really did need to be cleaned though, and my booming mommy social life meant needing to actually shower, and I was oddly driven to create a mountain of work for myself by starting a little business. Suddenly the lack of sleep hit me like a brick wall. Over and over, and every morning when I woke up.
Until he started SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!?!!!?! Which requires multiple punctuations, because I think at some point most parents terrifyingly accept that they will never sleep a full nights sleep until their kid is like 15...only once they're 15 you'll be up all night worrying about them making the wrong friends and missing curfew, and holy shit was that the front door?! Did he just sneak out?! But around 6 months old, after a little work, our baby started sleeping 9pm-7:30am. Every night! Sometimes he'd need a little rock after (I assumed) a bad dream, but his new night sleeps were so glorious I couldn't care less about the fact that he still hates to nap unless he's on you, or in the car. I could go upstairs to 'my office' for a few hours, and still get a very decent nights sleep, and my brain and my body quickly got (re)used to it. When he'd have a random off night, it would throw me RIGHT off too. My brain got used to functioning WITH sleep again so quickly, that not getting enough sleep suddenly felt much worse then it did before. Regardless of the months I spent never sleeping in the beginning.
This week, every night has been an off night. For 5 nights now he, and therefor I (because Daddy is working the early shift, and operates heavy machinery, and therefor needs to sleep all night more then I do), have not slept more then 2.5 consecutive hours. And yet he's still up for the day at 7:30am. And he still thinks real naps are dumb. And today it broke me, for a small moment.
It wasn't just his shitty sleeping at fault, of course. This strange phase of his obviously had to align with my lady-cycle. And when you have Endometriosis every day feels like a PMSing period day, and the actual PMSing period days feel like the first few aching, exhausted, barfy, far too emotional months of pregnancy AND the excruciatingly painful, draining, barfy last few days of pregnancy, all at the same time. It may not sound like much (maybe I didn't use enough scary words), but it was enough to break me, for a moment.
Side note: how does HE function without sleep?! No, he doesn't have to work and clean up, and plan a Birthday party, and book 5 appointments, and fill 5 orders, and push a stroller around. But one would assume that GROWING, and learning where your ears are, and how to feed yourself, and how to walk, and where the the treats are hidden must require some sort of energy-making rest, right?!
After being up and down all last night, to the point where we kicked daddy out of bed (to go SLEEP upstairs) so that I could at least lay down and rock him every hour, I thought I could at least look forward to a co-sleeping nap after our morning snack. I played our Disney lullabies, turned the fan on, snuggled him close, and rocked us. It's actually something I've grown to love deeply. He's slept-slept in his own bed since day one (besides these off nights), never in our bed or a bassinet in our room, so I quickly (secretly) fell in love with the fact that he napped better/longer when we were doing it together. After two songs he was out cold, and I rolled him off my throbbing shoulder, and closed my eyes. And 15 minutes later he was screaming and crying and flailing, and I lost it.
I ugly-cried like it was my job, sobs and snots and huge exhales. I just lay there under our covers with my hands over my eyes, while he sat up and started flopping around. They were sad and frustrated and overwhelmed tears. They were 'I can't/don't want to do this anymore' tears. And then those tears made me feel like a fucking asshole, so then they were guilty tears! But what happened next brought on like, a monsoon of tears. Happy, blessed, thankful tears.
He found his sucky that he'd hid under the duvet (his favorite new instead-of-sleeping game), and he stuck it right in my face! Because that's what suckies are for! For making the sad stop! Then he used my forehead to balance, and leaned over top of my face and kissed me. My nearly one-year-old kissed me, without being asked to. And my chest exploded. Just exploded.
In the last 51 weeks we have had the lowest lows and highest highs, as a family. And in that little nap time moment I felt them all, all over again. From feeling like an absolutely miserable failure, to realizing that in less then a year we have grown the most remarkable human being. He is just a teeny boy, but a long with crawling and dancing, facial features and how to sign 'more', he knows how to empathize. Most importantly, he knows how to love. At 51 weeks old, he realizes that he has the power to make the world a happier place, and he accepts that responsibility. And we did that. And I think, in quite a timely fashion, that moment was the greatest moment of this #momlife so far.
(That moment, and also the first time he used his pincer grasp!!! Fuck I love the pincers!!)
In the last year I have blogged an amazingly disappointing amount. That's just a fact. What I hate even more, is the weeks that go between the pages in my personal journal. These are the most important days of my life, and yet I'm writing about them far less then every other day of my life. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the psychology behind that...maybe I wrote more because back then my brain needed more distraction, and I needed more time to process my thoughts, and understand my days, where as now my feelings are obvious, and I know that this is where I am supposed to be, and this is my life. #mombrain is something that lasts far beyond 'new mommyhood', I'm not even going to try to ponder all that right now. I know though, that a big part of why I don't write, or type is exhaustion. And the fact that there aren't enough hours in the day anymore! And also, I now run a small business that's heavily social media based, so while I used to journal regularly in the bathroom (where I've always had to spend too much time), I'm now answering emails and using adorable apps to create adorable graphics for my adorable Instagram contests. (Case in point, I started typing this two days ago...)
All of which is beside the point. Except for the exhaustion. That is in fact the whole point. And the exhaustion peaked today.
In the first few months of being a parent you're amazed to learn how little sleep you need to survive. Or perhaps you simply ignore the tired ache in your brain, because 'they're a baby and they're supposed to be up all night long!' I also didn't care much about accomplishing anything but keeping my baby alive and happy in those first few months. I've always hated laundry, vacuuming could be done another day because it's not like he's crawling around yet, I definitely don't NEED to shower (just change my undies and my spit-up covered clothes every day) because there's an abundance of perfectly capable baby wipes everywhere I look! I was also already sick enough from the Endometriosis that was semi-dormant while pregnant, that I didn't have to spend much time eating. Any 'free time' I had could be spent sleeping when he slept, and I loved it. He made the schedule, and I went with it. And I loved him so much I didn't care if I ever slept again!
Months later, it's not that I don't love him that much anymore. In fact I'm amazed every single day because I love him more then yesterday, when yesterday I already thought there was no way I could love anything any more then I love him! Eventually the house really did need to be cleaned though, and my booming mommy social life meant needing to actually shower, and I was oddly driven to create a mountain of work for myself by starting a little business. Suddenly the lack of sleep hit me like a brick wall. Over and over, and every morning when I woke up.
Until he started SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT!?!!!?! Which requires multiple punctuations, because I think at some point most parents terrifyingly accept that they will never sleep a full nights sleep until their kid is like 15...only once they're 15 you'll be up all night worrying about them making the wrong friends and missing curfew, and holy shit was that the front door?! Did he just sneak out?! But around 6 months old, after a little work, our baby started sleeping 9pm-7:30am. Every night! Sometimes he'd need a little rock after (I assumed) a bad dream, but his new night sleeps were so glorious I couldn't care less about the fact that he still hates to nap unless he's on you, or in the car. I could go upstairs to 'my office' for a few hours, and still get a very decent nights sleep, and my brain and my body quickly got (re)used to it. When he'd have a random off night, it would throw me RIGHT off too. My brain got used to functioning WITH sleep again so quickly, that not getting enough sleep suddenly felt much worse then it did before. Regardless of the months I spent never sleeping in the beginning.
This week, every night has been an off night. For 5 nights now he, and therefor I (because Daddy is working the early shift, and operates heavy machinery, and therefor needs to sleep all night more then I do), have not slept more then 2.5 consecutive hours. And yet he's still up for the day at 7:30am. And he still thinks real naps are dumb. And today it broke me, for a small moment.
It wasn't just his shitty sleeping at fault, of course. This strange phase of his obviously had to align with my lady-cycle. And when you have Endometriosis every day feels like a PMSing period day, and the actual PMSing period days feel like the first few aching, exhausted, barfy, far too emotional months of pregnancy AND the excruciatingly painful, draining, barfy last few days of pregnancy, all at the same time. It may not sound like much (maybe I didn't use enough scary words), but it was enough to break me, for a moment.
Side note: how does HE function without sleep?! No, he doesn't have to work and clean up, and plan a Birthday party, and book 5 appointments, and fill 5 orders, and push a stroller around. But one would assume that GROWING, and learning where your ears are, and how to feed yourself, and how to walk, and where the the treats are hidden must require some sort of energy-making rest, right?!
After being up and down all last night, to the point where we kicked daddy out of bed (to go SLEEP upstairs) so that I could at least lay down and rock him every hour, I thought I could at least look forward to a co-sleeping nap after our morning snack. I played our Disney lullabies, turned the fan on, snuggled him close, and rocked us. It's actually something I've grown to love deeply. He's slept-slept in his own bed since day one (besides these off nights), never in our bed or a bassinet in our room, so I quickly (secretly) fell in love with the fact that he napped better/longer when we were doing it together. After two songs he was out cold, and I rolled him off my throbbing shoulder, and closed my eyes. And 15 minutes later he was screaming and crying and flailing, and I lost it.
I ugly-cried like it was my job, sobs and snots and huge exhales. I just lay there under our covers with my hands over my eyes, while he sat up and started flopping around. They were sad and frustrated and overwhelmed tears. They were 'I can't/don't want to do this anymore' tears. And then those tears made me feel like a fucking asshole, so then they were guilty tears! But what happened next brought on like, a monsoon of tears. Happy, blessed, thankful tears.
He found his sucky that he'd hid under the duvet (his favorite new instead-of-sleeping game), and he stuck it right in my face! Because that's what suckies are for! For making the sad stop! Then he used my forehead to balance, and leaned over top of my face and kissed me. My nearly one-year-old kissed me, without being asked to. And my chest exploded. Just exploded.
In the last 51 weeks we have had the lowest lows and highest highs, as a family. And in that little nap time moment I felt them all, all over again. From feeling like an absolutely miserable failure, to realizing that in less then a year we have grown the most remarkable human being. He is just a teeny boy, but a long with crawling and dancing, facial features and how to sign 'more', he knows how to empathize. Most importantly, he knows how to love. At 51 weeks old, he realizes that he has the power to make the world a happier place, and he accepts that responsibility. And we did that. And I think, in quite a timely fashion, that moment was the greatest moment of this #momlife so far.
(That moment, and also the first time he used his pincer grasp!!! Fuck I love the pincers!!)
