So, MB and I have had this kind of unspoken agreement that I will get up with Baby L should she wake in the middle of the night, since he, after all, has to wake up before 5 am to make it to work on time. This went really well for months because Baby L rarely woke up during the night and I was functioning at approximately 95% (depending on how many glasses of wine I’d had after the wee one went to sleep). Now that Baby L is waking up 3,025 times per night and I am knocked up, cranky and totally exhausted, this arrangement is just pissing me off.
I know that MB has to work. And I know that he is doing so to assure that I don’t have to and that I can, like I had wanted to, stay home with Baby L and not miss any of the cool things she learns to do. (On this list of cool things, however, I did not include “learning how not to nap and then get terribly angry and stay that way for the rest of the day”.) And I genuinely appreciate this. I really do. But, internet, I am freaking tired. And not the normal, I have a baby kind of tired. It is the “I have a baby and I am currently growing another one WAY too soon” tired and I am not sure what to do about it. On the one hand, I feel like waking MB up in the middle of the night by banging on his head with rattles and the like. On the other hand I feel like I should really just respect that this is the path that I chose. I am the full-time SAHM and I am responsible for the baby stuff at night so that my wonderful husband can go to work and function properly in the morning.
And because Baby L has been a crazy, weirdo when it comes to sleeping lately, and she usually (always, at least for a couple of hours a night) ends up in the bed with us, I feel even MORE uncomfortable than I would normally be. With or without this new parasite.
I’ve tried to nap. But I am back on the insomnia train. You know the one, ladies, where the minute you actually have time to sleep, you can’t. Because your body hates you. Either that, or I fall into a deep, delicious slumber and Baby L starts to scream like someone is peeling her skin off. Because not only does my body hate me, it appears that my child also hates me.
I am starting to wonder if I will ever sleep again. I remember wondering this when I was pregnant with Baby L, but…this? This is much, much worse. What is a mama to do?