I’m pretty sure “sleep while your baby is sleeping” is the
best advice I’ve most hated. Yes, as soon as the baby closes her eyes, I should
rapidly wind down and shut off my mind, get as comfortable in bed as my achy,
milk-filled chest will let me, ignore the bright midday sunlight, and try to
sleep for what may be ten minutes or, at most, two hours. Repeat this cycle
eight to ten times a day around the clock, and you pretty much have the last
three weeks. I get so tired of constantly trying to sleep, yet I’m not really
good for anything else.
I think that’s the worst: when I’m asleep, never getting to
sleep properly (deeply or long), and when awake, never getting to be awake
normally. Being awake is like living underwater. I feel groggy, I move slower,
and I have a feeling my perspective is skewed: objects in the mirror are
different than they appear. I have to constantly tell myself: it’s okay. Let it
go. It’s not the end of the world if the kids break a few rules or mold is
overtaking the shower tiles. That comment was not meant to be as hurtful or
annoying as it sounded. You’re just tired.
Speaking of which, Esme is sleeping. So off I head to bed.
