In too deep

Where the hell has the last month gone?

There are days when I feel like I’m floating in water, just popping my head above for air every now and then. These are the good days. Then there are days when I feel like I’m a mile underwater with no hope in hell of getting my head above water. These are the bad days. You will be pleased to know the good days generally occur more frequently.

The first week with Zoe was both tough and easy. Easy because she was a very sleepy baby and we could still do things like eat dinner together. Tough because, due to the sleepiness, she didn’t feed all that often or all that well and I spent the whole week worried about how much she was or wasn’t getting. In hospital she had to be given formula each night because she wouldn’t settle because she obviously wasn’t getting enough from me. So much for that "baby is not to be given formula in hospital" bit on my non-existant birth plan. I hated doing it but I knew she was hungry and clearly wanted/needed it.

Once my milk started to come in and we were home, feeding got a little easier. Not much but a little. I came very close to giving up a number of times (in fact some nights, when I’m feeding her for what feels like the zillionth time, I still contemplate stopping.) but I was lucky enough to get a very understanding and helpful midwife visit me inthe first week who gave me the confidence to carry on with it.

Having Duncan at home for the first 3 weeks was a godsend. There was someone to help in  the middle of the night when I couldn’t settle her and someone around so I could sleep. Since he went back to work, it’s been harder – being on my own for the night shifts and finding myself unble to sleep during the day because I worry she might cry and I might not wake up, even though she’s next to me, and because she doesn’t sleep much in the afternoon. There have been more times than I care to think about where Ive got frustrated with her because she wants feeding again even though I only finished the last feed 45 minutes before and Duncan’s found me in tears on more than a few occasions and listened to me sob about being unable to cope and being a bad mother. It’s been one hell of an emotional roller coaster.

There are times when I look at her and wonder how I helped create this gorgeous little thing but I still don’t feel that overwhelming love that everyone says I should. Duncan does, you can tell by the way he looks at her. I’m getting there though.

We take each day as it comes. I’m waiting for that miraculous 6th week to start, the time when everyone tells me it’ll get better, like a switch will come on and she’ll start sleeping in the evenings and settling in her cot after her night feed. I get the feeling though it won’t quite happen like that and the 6th week could pass unnoticed in a hzae of sleep deprivation.

I didn’t expect motherhood to be so tough. I mean, I knew there would be a lack of sleep, but I didn’t expect it to drain me so much, I didn’t think breastfeeding would be so tough or so tiring. I tell you, it ain’t nothing like on TV.

Until there is a next time…

xx