When my little girl was born she was a sleeping angel that only woke to make little baby grunts, a sound that sent a current of thrill through my newly minted mom heart. This angelic state lasted all of 24 hours before it turned to electrocution.
Day two of parenting became more akin to The Exorcist than angelic. She screamed for hours and hours and nothing we or the very concerned nursing staff did, could sooth the roaring babe. Swaddling, snuggling, feeding, bathing, singing, silence, even g****mn tilting her crib for gas did not work. Eventually the nursing staff broke their own rules and took her away to the nursing station so we could get some semblance of sleep. It was scary.
Deep down I knew she was pissed off. Where was her human snuggie suit with the IV belly button feed and ambient lighting with accompanying soundtrack? Why had we thrust her into this cold, smelly world where she was forced to breath air and suckle with her own strength? WHERE WAS HER WOMB WITH A VIEW?
This was the first indication that my daughter did not like change. I should have taken better notes at the time but who had time to take notes while their nipples and nethers were being shredded? Uber mom, I was not.
Now here I am five years later and at least at this point in the 'resistant to change' juncture, I figured out what was up right away. My daughter is royally pissed off that I have returned to work and she hasn't used her big girl 'words' to let me know.
She's fighting fire with gasoline. She's returned to roots of expressing displeasure by her preferred method: parental sleep deprivation. Oh and with a huge dash of tantrums just to keep the torture going during daylight hours.
I started work outside the home two weeks ago and she stopped sleeping through the night at the same time. And guess who is the only one who can solve her issues at 3am? GUESS? That's right, this lady right here.
Now before you scream 'Hey mom, give her a break, her entire world just turned upside down.' Oh trust me, that is more important than my sleep but that doesn't mean I need to keep my feelings bottled up. Blogging is my outlet and writing this helps me (re)gain perspective when the parenting coping skills have been worn down to a nub. That's the magic of blogging: OUTLET. Though unfortunately not the kind of outlet that means you just snagged a pair of Jimmy Choo's for under $40.
Usually there would be (IMO) some witty wrap up to this post right about here but there isn't, so apologies all around. Sleep deprivation really kills the creative brain cells in my particular model.
All there is to say is... help? No that it isn't it... how about 'hope?' Yes that's it: hope that it gets better soon.
(it will, right?)