Tonight though, in betwixt text messages with my sister bemoaning the current state of our Not Youth, I am writing this blog entry. As it turns out I will be bemoaning the current state of sleep or lack thereof in this house so tonight is just all full of bemoaning. To spare any of you reading here the long story that is about to follow let me sum it up for you in a few succinct words: Clio says, "Ah Hell No," to sleeping through the night and I am at my wit's end with the situation.
Last night she woke up every 90 minutes. I tell you no lie. She wasn't sick except for a near constant runny nose that we have concluded is a result of allergies. She wasn't too hot or too cold. She wasn't in need of a diaper change. There was nothing wrong with her other than a decided lack of boob in her mouth. After listening for the sixth time to her wake up, whine and cry for 5 minutes before putting herself back to sleep I finally got up to bring her back into bed with me to nurse her. Usually I can stick her back into the crib after she nurses herself to sleep but last night she wanted to sleep only ON MY CHEST. Which, as you can imagine, makes it difficult to sleep for the one who is the human mattress.
This morning I woke up feeling completely frustrated with Clio, feeling utterly at a loss as to how to help the situation (we've tried a modified version of crying if out but that was a miserable failure), and feeling like a shitty mom. You know, because, I had a baby die and dammit I should never take for granted that I now have a thriving daughter to love and hold. All day today my patience with Clio's whining and fussing and squealing -Egads she hates the car seat- was as thin as it has ever been. I wanted to hand her off to Leif and run away for the day, not worry about breast feeding -girl will only take a bottle at day care and not even for her dad at home- and just be alone.
There seems to be no end to my stupidity and naivete because I thought that experiencing George's death would somehow turn me into Supermom; Capable of Surviving Indefinitely on Hardly Any Sleep and Possessing of Infinite Pools of Patience. Apparently that is not a gift that was bestowed upon me in the wake of George's death. What was bestowed upon me, and maybe all mothers feel this to an extent, is a tremendous feeling of guilt and hyper awareness of my failings as Clio's mother.
I should be grateful I have a living child. I am but just not grateful enough. I should never get frustrated or feel like I can't handle her whining anymore. But I do feel those ways sometimes. I look at Leif and think that he must never feel that way. Clio is going to grow up feeling like her dad loves her more than her mom. That is what races through my head on days like this.
So here I am hiding in the tub, partially submerged in the rapidly cooling water, writing this. Feeling sleepy, guilty and inadequate.
It's 8:30pm. I think I hear Clio crying.
