I was due a good sleeper.
After 2.5 years off sleepless nights with my eldest, I assured myself that this time, with my second child, this time would be different.
‘All babies are different’, they said.
‘This one will sleep through from 6 weeks’, they said..
‘Well it can’t be any worse than it was with Erin can it?!’ they said
Except it turns out it CAN be worse: much much worse. When someone was dishing out the sleeping babies – I appear to have joined the wrong queue. The queue for insomniacs maybe, or those who like to live life through partially open eyes.
History is most definitely repeating itself, and here, in my sleep deprived slumber, and my 7th night of being awake deliberating life at 2am I can’t help but blame myself as the common denominator.
I have made the same mistakes all over again, failing to teach my my baby how to self settle – rocking, cuddling or feeding her to sleep and now? Now even milk is failing to have the desired effect.
I have vague recollections of those days pre children when I would get a solid 8 hours of undisturbed slumber, waking up with the ability to bounce out of bed ready for the day ahead of me. Today? I’m lucky if my bum makes contact with the bed sheets for longer than about twenty minutes. For the last week I have probably had no more than 2 hours sleep a night and I am broken.
I am broken and my baby appears to have decided that sleep is completely unnecessary. I am all out of ideas and I am officially falling apart!
At times it feels like I am the only person in the whole world awake. Z for Zachariah. It’s just me, awake, in a zombiefied post apocalyptic state with my baby. My baby who appears to like nothing more than staring at my face.
Send help, this mummy has malfunctioned.