I find myself in the funniest of predicaments of wanting and feeling like this warm, peaceful and sincerely attached parent…. until about 2AM. Yep…. my threshold has broken more than a few times in the last couple of nights, and as I lay there becoming (yet again) the human pacifier, I calmly chant to myself, “this too is a phase. This too shall pass. This is a phase. She needs to nurse. She needs it. She is growing in all sorts of ways…. this too shall pass.” Till about that 3rd, 4th and 5th hour when I start to get louder, and my words are less kind. And at about 5AM when I realize I probably have not slept more than a few minutes this entire night because I have tried so desperately to satiate her needs in this very moment, I want to just rip off my breasts and toss them out the window, roll over (onto my STOMACH) on my very own bed/pillow, and sleep for the next 7 days. And as this fantasy washes over me and I realize that, “yes…. yes…. I am *still* nursing”…. profanities start to slip through my mouth. At first it’s just this slight little muttering to myself. But at some point, I realize Just maybe she is just not hearing me quite so well, so maybe I should speak up?! And then after one massive explosion where every child in the house hears me…. I settle back to bed. Regain some composure. Feel like a massive moron for having that happen “yet again.” And…. we finally all drift off to sleep.
And… instead of being proactive as to why this phase is currently consuming my night life…. I have decided to stay up to the wee-hours of the night blogging. If I’m not sleeping while I’m sleeping… I might as well be productive while not sleeping… right? Makes perfect sense (to me).