So, what's the most ironic thing that could happen to a sleep-deprived mommy? Funny you should ask. Because last night I had a solid 2-hour chunk of sleep time, and I spent it wondering why I was suddenly an insomniac. What? Who? Where? Why? No! Seriously? Yes.
I cannot express how much I dislike this. I was awake till just before her next feeding, during which I think I started dreaming, because I remember wondering why my child had long squid tentacles for legs. By the 7 am feeding, my brain had ceased working completely, and I handed her over to my husband in a state I can only describe as despraddled. When it was time to wake up and get ready for her opthamologist appointment, i thought I was going to strangle everyone except my baby with my bare hands.
And then, when it was time to come home -- and my home is comfortable, clean, beautiful -- but when it was time to come back to this safe, no airborne-illness haven, I thought I would collapse under the weight of it. I did think the isolation would be fun and relaxing and I still try to think of it that way. And then I fail. And it has only been a week!
Yet when she's snuggled up beside me, I can't do anything but smile. Drifting in and out of fitful near-sleep, i found myself starting awake with my eyes looking directly into hers, both of us heavy-lidded and bewildered, her rounded forehead filling my vision like a velvety full moon. Blink. Blink.
Every woman with a daughter since the beginning of time has made the silent promises I'm making to her now. The trick is to figure out how to keep them.
p.s. she did happily sleep in the co-sleeper for like two hours last night, as I draped myself over the edge of it so I could still curl around her. Ow. The thing is, when she's not fully against my body (or her dad's), she's one of those snorty sleepers, and I don't have the soporific talent to sleep through that. But: progress.