I am holding two realities in tandem: I loving being a momma, and I am really
really dead tired.
Last night was one
of the worst yet, and our child is well out of the newborn stage. I don’t know if it was teething,
tummy ache, or just fussiness, but she screamed for three hours in the middle
of the night. We don’t sleep much
to begin with. This is an
understatement. She usually sleeps
for two hours at a time, and she is seven months old. I can’t really figure out
sleep training thing. I can’t even
figure out how I feel about sleep training.
Sometimes Jordan has to hold me down at night so that I
don’t get up to comfort at the first sound of distress. Other times, I punch him, or scream at him, or both punch and scream, leap out of
bed, and swoop in to “rescue” my baby.
I don’t condone punching or screaming at your husband. It just seems instinctual at times. I'm trying to stop.
Consistency at night is
not my best quality. I am
genuinely happy for mommies who have babies that start sleeping through the
night at seven weeks, or four months, or six months. And I also have moments when am ferociously envious of
those mommas. Mainly those moments
arise at one in the morning.
I
LOVE being the one who gets to nurse my baby. That communion together is precious, and most of the time I
wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. And I get really mad at God that He didn’t make daddies with
the capability of lactation. Come on, God, it would have been so easy. Just insert the little mammary glands into their boobies too. Then we could share duties. This
anger with God also usually surfaces in the wee hours of the morning.
In the middle of the night, muddling
through hours of screaming, I don’t know how we are going to make it
through. I can’t see a light at
the end of the tunnel. I feel like
a terrible mommy and an even worse wife.
Then the dawn comes.
Another night over. The light of
the morning comes every day. There
is grace. There are
apologies. Sometimes many profuse apologies. Maybe we will figure
out sleep. Maybe we won’t. Hopefully we will. But we love.
Her morning smiles, babbling, giggling, and playing wash
over the dirty remnants of the difficult night. It is cleansed. Joy will come after tears.
I am so glad that the morning
follows night. Always.
Love this post Megan. I will never forget the sleepless nights. It was definitely the hardest part about babies. Be sure to give yourself some much deserved breaks.:)
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