Sleep. I would pay big money to be able to sleep four hours in a row. During week two, I reasoned to myself that I would go through labor again to get 8 hours of sleep. I miss sleep.
When your ability to sleep is taken away from you, you lose the following: 99% of your reasoning skills, 85% of your vocabulary, being able to get through the day without crying, your desire to smell good, shave your legs, or brush your teeth, and the knowledge that you’re only in a stage of life, and it will change. Because when you don’t get to sleep, time stands still. And time sucks.
I bought a cutesy little devotional called “Meditations for New Moms”. I thought the vignettes would be a good supplement to my quiet time. Instead, it’s guilt-tripped me for the past month. All the meditations are so… happy. Like about how blissfully content and joyful new mothers are. What the crap. I needed (and still do) a devotional that addresses the depression and exhaustion of being a new mom.
Another adjustment: nursing (I’m going to try to get through this without using words connected with female anatomy, so my post won’t get flagged on google). I now have two additional bladders stuck to my chest. As if I didn’t go through nine months of torture with the one I already had. And they’re not even well-functioning bladders, either. Nursing is magical? What? Thanks to Obama, my insurance gave me a pump for free… but every time I use it, I have a flashback to the Ready Rainbow episode where Lavar Burton goes to a dairy farm.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Gracie. I adore her. When she wakes up at night screaming, but then quiets suddenly when I pick her up, I realize that there is no one else in the entire world that she would rather see, than me. And it touches my soul.
But my soul is also wanting a shower and an excuse to wear a dress and a pair of heels again.