10 Nov 2012

This is hard

Juffin only took a week off from work. I know what you're all thinking, that's not enough. And you know what, you're probably right but that's what we did.  Our reasons for this are as follows:  new job, financially nonviable and I'm going to have to be by myself with Mushroom eventually.  Juffin comes home from work for lunch every day and is only a phone call away if we need him.  Neither of us foresaw that I'd be having a cesarean, and we did talk about him taking another week but honestly, there was just no point.  I was getting around fine, Mushroom seemed to be settling in... despite our teething problems re breastfeeding so Juffin was off to bring home the bacon.

Sunday dawns, the day before Juffin goes back to work, and Mushroom has several visitors.  He seems to handle the attention ok, and we get to bed around 9pm.  All of us.  I'm a little nervous as Juffin will not be here to help tomorrow and I'm hoping that he gets enough sleep tonight.  Ok, so I'm peaking out.  I have no idea that I'll be able to do this by myself and I'm worried that I'm going to kill our son.  I do the wrong thing all the time.  Like not watch him at the change table.  I forgot to get him a singlet and I turned around went to the drawers and got him one.  And I JUST LEFT HIM THERE!  BY HIMSELF!  This is a giant no no.  There's really no hope for me.

Maybe because I'm peaking out, or maybe because we had too many visitors and he's overstimulated, or maybe because he's a bloody baby, but when I wake up to feed the Mushroom at 1am, or thereabouts, he has a shit fit.  And I mean serious shit fit.  There is screaming, which we haven't yet heard before, and it's like a mix between a dying bird and a nanny goat.  Thinking of poor Juffin, having to get up to work tomorrow, I rush the Mushroom out of our bedroom to the safety of his room.  And so begins the endless cycle..  I change his nappy.  I feed him.  I cuddle him.  I rock him.  I change him.  I feed him. I cuddle him.  I rock him.  I try a combination of feeding, and rocking.  I walk around the house, mainies of our kitchen, with the Mushroom attached to my breast and my arms jiggling him at the same time. This goes on and on and on for hours.  My boobs are leaking all over the place, my eyes feel like sandpaper and I desperately need to go to the toilet.... this is the shite that everyone was talking about.  I can't deal with 6 weeks of this fucking crap.  I'll die.

Obviously I won't die.  But you know what I mean.  So many horrible, awful thoughts went through my head during those hours to dawn.  Not only did I want to tie Mushroom's hands behind his back and mash his face into my boobs, but you doubt your ability to be a parent.  The self blaming starts again.. the "is there something wrong with me because I can't settle my baby", "is it my milk" "do I have enough milk" rears it's ugly head again. The tears were never ending, mine and the Mushrooms.  I was so overwhelmed and scared of doing something wrong or thinking about doing something wrong that I worked myself into a right old state.  It was like Mushroom was punishing me.  Like he knew that I had wished, just for a split second, that he wasn't here so I could get some sleep...  Horrifying.  I mean how could a baby read my mind, oh wait, that's not the horrifying thing.  The horrifying thing is HOW COULD I THINK SUCH A THING?!  You're probably disgusted to read that, as I'm disgusted in myself whilst writing it, but it did happen.  I told you I was going to be honest about these things.  It's only a split second, like when you're halfway through a block of top deck and you think you should stop, but you don't.   It's only a second.  And sometimes in the throes of panic and exhaustion, with this tiny person relying on you body and soul, it feels like too much and you can't help but think these awful things.

Somewhere close to dawn, my beautiful Mushroom nods off.  Exhausted from the endless roundabout of crying, walking, pooing, jiggling and feeding.  I breathe a sigh of relief and put him down, crossing fingers and toes that he stays asleep for at least 3 hours so I can get some shut eye.  Juffin has managed to miss the brunt of the storm so is getting up for work relatively refreshed, whilst I feel like I've been run down with a tractor.

I stand over his hammock, making sure that he's definitely asleep this time and look at my tiny son as he sleeps.  And it breaks my heart.  I'm totally spent, exhausted.  My legs are aching from walking around and around my house 5000 times, my abdomen is sore because only a week ago I was sliced open, and my boobs are in agony from having a tiny person's mouth attached to them for the better part of the last 5 hours and I'm standing over this hammock, grinning at my son because of course it's all worth it.  I can endure a million hours of this and it still be ok because I love him.  When you have that gorgeous newborn cuddle time with that beautiful soft skin, that baby smell, those big eyes staring into your soul and his little heart fluttering against you as you hold him close... all that other stuff goes away!

Making it all worth it!  
Next time:  First outing!