Deprived

The sleep deprivation is insane.

The developmental therapist who came to see Robbie on Monday asked if he's awake for 10 or 15 minutes at a time. This was at about noon.

I flatly replied "He fell asleep just before you got here. He'd been up since 12:30am."
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

Seriously, the kid doesn't sleep.

He's not necessarily crying a lot- though he does have those periods, too. But he wants to be held and talked to and played with and patted and handed his pacifier 800 times in a row. As long as you're willing to do those things, he's a very happy baby. But if you're not- he cries. And cries. And cries.

Now, but all rights- he has it coming. He got jipped out of 3 months of uterine bliss.

But seriously, cut a mom a break.

Two hours of sleep yesterday, an hour this morning and an hour this afternoon.

I swear to you, the only time he sleeps is when someone visits so that I CAN'T go lay down.

The home nurse called about 11:30 to ask if she could come. I told her to come on- it's not like he's sleeping anyway. Five minutes after I hung up- he was out cold.

He slept until she got here and woke him to weigh him and such (5 lb 6 oz, for the record.)

She asked if I was sleeping and I scoffed.

Then, because she's apparently an angel walking on earth, she asked if she could come back after work and just look after him a while so I could rest. And that she'd bring food.

And I let her because I have no pride. Seriously- a nurse asked me if she could let me relax a bit? HELL. YEAH.

David wasn't expected home until 10 or 11 pm. I was on my own with practically no sleep. Music to my ears.

Right after she left, my dad came over. He offered to hold Robbie while I took a shower. I hadn't showered since Wednesday. I debated long and hard about whether to nap or shower but it was nearly time for Robbie to eat again, so I figured I'd fit in what I had time for- a shower. God, it felt good.

Eventually Robbie slept an hour. I joined him. He woke up hungry, of course and as I got up to make his bottle, my angel nurse arrived.

She brought a spinach salad and pomegranite-blueberry juice and a promise to work with us on breastfeeding.

she helped me get him on with the nipple shield- he nursed for 20 minutes which is about 4x as long as I've been able to get him to go in the last few weeks. My milk supply is shit. Or rather, my ability to get the milk from my boobs to a bottle is shit. I feel engorged, but the pump just isn't cutting it. And of course, my time to pump is very limited. I'm doing the best I can. If he would nurse, it would save me an immense amount of time and I think there would be plenty for him to eat.

Then I ate and drank and pumped without having to get up 23 times to pat/paci/sing to Robbie.

She was here for about 2 hours when my husband got home.

I wanted to send him back away because she's more helpful than he is. But she left.

No time for a nap.

I asked David to wash bottles while I fed Robbie and pumped. Two hours later, still nothing washed. It was close to time to pump again and I was out of clean pump equipment so instead of sleeping- Robbie was actually asleep- I washed bottles and plotted painful deaths for David.

He has to work tomorrow, too, so I'm on my own again.

I seriously don't know how single moms do it. And you moms of twins out there? God bless you.

I literally cried this morning and begged him to please, please, please go to sleep.
I love that he's so neurologically sound as to be awake and alert this much, but seriously..he's really a newborn. He's supposed to sleep like 16 hours a day. He MIGHT have slept 6 today, total. That's 20 minute naps, an hour here, an hour there. Long enough for me to put him to bed, MAYBE pump, and he's up again.

Tomorrow he might sleep all day. Every couple of days he has one of those. And I take full advantage, believe me. He's got to be due, right?

Maybe he's on some weird 72 hour day rhythm.
I don't know.

I've been trying to do the see-the-sun-in-the-morning/darkness-at-night thing. He doesn't seem to notice.

I suppose that's Karma. David and I are both night owls and I know I was NOT a good sleeper as a kid. I fought it with all my might.

My dad just keeps laughing at me.


Okay, enough of my whining. It's time to feed the kiddo. Then he's going to sleep. RIGHT?

--Trish

P.S. In an amusing turn of events, it turns out that my husband's cat is troubled by Robbie's crying. Three times in the last day when he's been crying, she's come to bite me on the foot/leg. I'm not sure what's she's trying to communicate- maybe it's "Shut that thing up!" or "What's wrong with it!?" but I think it's some sort of concern. Earlier he was laying in our bed crying while I got a diaper and warmed a bottle. She hopped up and sniffed at him, the kneaded the place next to him for a while. I think she might have been trying to soothe him.

Cats are weird.
D