Here's the solution to Amelia not sleeping during the day: the battery-operated baby swing. She loves it. She'd spend all day in there if that didn't make me want to vomit with guilt.
I am still in survival mode. Each day--each hour--that I get through is a small victory. So much the better if I get through it without crying. It's not the lack of sleep so much as it is the lack of any time to myself. And the guilt. I am currently a half-assed mother to Henry and my swing-bound Amelia. I feel guilty when I can't help Henry because I'm feeding Amelia, I feel guilty when I'm reading to Henry instead of talking to Amelia, I feel guilty when I have to pee and stay in the bathroom 30 seconds longer than I really need to just so I can breathe in a room by myself.
Also, my nipples may wear through soon. Everyone who has successfully breastfed for 12 months (or more!), you have my deep respect. I would quit now except that a) if I had to load up formula and the portable bottle-warmer I would never leave the house and b) the size of my rack makes me feel better about the size of my stomach. This is the closest I'll get to implants. I have cleavage!
Today we went to Target. Henry was a star--never running away and calmly leaving the toy aisle when I told him it was time to go. Amelia screamed half the time, which is a state I have come to accept in some instances, but which seemed to alarm every grandmother-aged woman in the store, each of whom offered me different advice about what I was supposed to be doing. If I had any energy I'd have felt either irritated or incompetent. Instead it was just nice to talk to people.
I like going to Target. It reminds me that I'm not dead yet.
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Actually, it sounds like you are doing a great job of managing two - it must be such a difficult transition although I hope to go through it one day too.
ReplyDeleteMy nipples were scabby bloody messes for at least a month after K. was born. Then it just gradually became painless. I used to be in tears every time I nursed him. Soothies (which I think you can buy online) brought some very marginal relief, but mostly the old nips just had to toughen up and develop callouses or something. Gross, I know. I'm sure you already know this having been through it with Henry.
Actually I had no idea because Henry and I completely failed at breastfeeding. I never got him to latch on, my milk supply dwindled, and the boob became an instant source of anger for him. I just pumped for 6 months, which was a hassle of enormous proportions but which didn't, um, suck so hard? Literally and figuratively.
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