Sleep, damn you!

I can't sleep. My whole life, it has been easy for me to wake up in the mornings and be productive almost immediately. In college I woke up 4 days a week extra early to go to the gym, including Saturdays. I rarely am able to take naps during the day, and I am horrible at staying up late. Granted, there have been a few exceptions, but mostly this is always true.

Toss a baby into that mix, and things get exhausting. "Sleep when the baby sleeps!" they all tell me. Um, I can't. I can count on one hand how many daytime naps I've taken in the three weeks since the girl got here. When nighttime rolls around, I am so tired I can hardly think straight. I go to sleep, wake up every two or three hours with her, sleep with her on the couch if I have to, and then when she wakes up in the morning to eat, whether it's 6am or 9am, I wake up too and then I'm up for the day. 

I try to sleep. I make myself lay down and I turn the TV off, but usually all I can do is think about all the things that need to get done around the house and around my life. Sleep when she sleeps? Yeah right, life still goes on, and my to do list is only getting longer and longer. I need to cancel my membership at the gym. I need to vacuum my bedroom. I need to empty the dishwasher and color my hair and go grocery shopping and eat lunch (is it lunchtime already??) and call about car insurance and write in her baby book and spend time with my husband and check my email and feed her again and send in my timesheets for work.

Shit. I forgot to send in my timesheets for work.

What comforts me is that one day she will sleep through the night, and I will finally get some work done.

It needs to be said...

Breastfeeding sucks. It sucks. It is hard and it is painful and I can say with confidence that is has been the hardest part of the whole giving birth/new mom package. 

It hurts. I have never been so aware of my nipples in my lifetime. Granted, almost three weeks later, the pain is subsiding and things are getting easier. But for a good week or so there, every time the girl needed to eat I would have to grit my teeth and bare (bear?) down to get through the first few seconds. 

It's hard. Being the sole source of my new daughter's nourishment is a huge responsibility, and thank goodness we've had an easy time of it. We haven't had problems with latching on or any of the common troubles that can occur with babies learning to nurse, but it is still hard. I'm the only one who can be there for her in the middle of the night. Skip can get up and change her diaper, but ultimately it's me who has the job to do. I can't hand her off to anyone else and say, "Here, you do it." And you can only sit down and lift up your shirt so many times before you feel like a cow. The on-demand-ness of it is what makes me the craziest. 

I'm all for breastfeeding. To read the research and information on how awesome it is not only for her but for me, it's extremely clear not only that our bodies were built to do this, it's not just a coincidence that women can also nurse their babies, but it feels like I'd be cheating her out of the, literally, best food for her in the world. And she's only a baby! She doesn't deserve to be cheated out of anything.

But damn all those people who told me, "Your life is about to change forever!" or "Get your rest now!" Why the hell didn't anyone ever tell me, "Enjoy the last few weeks of your nipples feeling normal! Breastfeeding's a bitch!"

Well...

...she's here! After I ended up kind of going into labor on my own, getting a sah-WEET epidural, and pushing for maybe about 15 minutes, the girl finally got here. Six pounds, 13 ounces, 20 inches long. She was born about 9am on October 15.

And man is she tricky. Babies are pretty hard to take care of, which is strange because they just eat, sleep, and poop. Literally, they aren't lying about that part. But what is also weird how there is no time for anything. Anything! It's really hard to take everyone's advice and lay down and rest when she does. It's hard to not do laundry, or clean the bathroom, or mop the floor, or put things away. 

But she's completely worth it. It's surprising how, at 3am after being woken up for the fourth time that night, I don't resent her at all. If anything, I just look at her and love her as though I'd just gotten a great night's sleep, drank some Starbucks, and just had my hair done. It doesn't hurt matters that she is absolutely adorable. 

I can't believe how much I love her. I just can't believe how much I freaking love her.

The last one.

This is/was my last weekend as just me. However, it hasn't been too terribly outstanding because the last few weekends I have assumed were my last. I feel like I should do something really significant, but all I want to do is read my book, take my nap, and wait until early this week when I know she will get here, no questions asked. One way or another, next weekend will be my first as a mom.

I am due yesterday.

Bleeeehhhhh. Welp, here I am. Still pregnant. Man, October 8th was supposed to be it! It's like someone told me I was going to get this awesome thing on October 8th and then when the day rolled around they were like, "Oh right, that. Well, eh, not today." I feel really screwed. And cheated! When asked how I am feeling, all I can do is drop my shoulders, throw my head back in defeat, and pout and whine. It's not so much I'm super excited to be a parent to a newborn that cries a lot, that I'm still terrified of, it's that I'm sick of barely being able to move! It's a pain to lay down, it's a pain to sit up, it's a pain getting up and down, it sucks going to the bathroom all the time, I want to paint my toenails, and I want to sit on the floor and pet Tucker without wondering how the heck I'm going to get back up. 

Oh, and whoever said a person is pregnant for 9 months is a liar. A full-term pregnancy is 40 weeks. That's 10 months, people. Ten. Months. And here I am going on week 41 like a sucker.

Dilate already!!

I'm still barely dilated. My baby is still growing. I am not. Big baby, little mommy. Thus, if this kid hasn't shown up by next week, we are going in after her. 

I'm a scheduled person. I like a good schedule, and while I've heard that some women get disappointed when they have to be induced, I am pretty excited. One, it's a light at the end of the tunnel ...no pun intended. I finally have an idea of when this will all be over. And while I could still very easily and naturally go into labor on my own, I know that this won't go beyond early next week. But with that being said, two, I like the idea of being able to relax a little bit this week. Until now, every little pang or twinge, I would catch my breath and wonder if this was it. I don't know what contractions feel like (and I don't want to hear anyone tell me "Oh you'll know it when you feel it!"), so any little cramp and I am freaking out.

I also don't like surprises. I almost hope I have to wait until they induce me. I like organization. I like schedules. I like punctuality. Basically, inducing makes me happy, even though now I definitely have to do laundry because I'm running out of clothes that fit and I for sure won't make it until next week in these sweatpants.

Week one.

I am officially on maternity leave. Being that the hospital is about 10 minutes from my house but 45 minutes away from my work, along with the utter lack of anything productive to do at work, I decided to stop working a week before my due date to rest and, well, rest. 

So far, staying at home is ok, but daunting. I know that soon I will hopefully be much lighter and less cumbersome, but for right now I feel very handicapped and restricted. I tripped letting my dog out this afternoon and was stunned to find myself very rapidly going down with quite some force. Thankfully, I was able to catch myself on the handrails outside. Needless to say, I just can't get around like I used to. So I try to content myself with a couple of lame "girl" books that don't require a lot of thought (I can't concentrate on anything) and I try my best to not let myself feel guilty for watching episode after episode of "Friends" while intermittently taking 20 minute naps. It's the last time for a long time I'll get the opportunity to rest like this, I tell myself, and everyone is telling me to enjoy it anyway... so here I go. Being a lazy bum and pulling the pregnancy card once again. 

It's slightly daunting because I am kind of feeling like this is it. This is it. Sitting around waiting for my husband to get home. I mean, I know that pretty soon things are going to get hard, but... it's just a very scary feeling of "What next?" and having no idea what that answer looks like.