I don't have any indulgences anymore. I don't get haircuts (trying to grow out my mohawk) no manis pedis (I couldn't reach my toes in 3rd trimester, bending over after a c-section is painful, and I can't see what toenails I would be painting anyhow) and no buying of new clothes (thrift hound.) I buy things in bulk, on sale, and clip coupons. I walk to the train station and I use cloth diapers. I don't really drink, definitely don't smoke. No drugs. I am thinking of ditching my cell phone and using a landline since nobody talks to me on the phone.
I drink decaf. I drink the superior Peet's Major Dickonsons Decaf, and I drink the gutter swill at my local donut hole. The donuts there are really, really good, and if you don't get there before noon, they are mostly gone. There is a line outside the shop when they open at 4 AM. This morning all I wanted was a cup of medium decaf, no room.
It was a rough night. Depression kicked in due to me fully realizing that even though I am trying to be the best Mom possible, I don't have the most desirable family situation for Luca, with a partner that is by my side. I can't do everything and I am exhausted.
I am getting tired of random people coming up to me telling me these are the best days of my life when I am still bleeding from my c-section incision, as well as vaginally, feel like my guts could spill out onto the floor the next time I pick him up, I have huge saucer shaped milk wet spots on my tits, the constant spit up stain on my shoulder and in my hair, I am overweight and can't get on my bicycle yet, and I haven't slept in months.
When I did get to sleep, it was one of those stare at the ceiling while I try and fall asleep because I am so worn out. Luca was having bad dreams. I am not sure what babies dream about, but he was making frantic breathing sounds, excited cries with his eyes closed. I was holding him and watching him for most of the night, and wondered if he was getting cortisol stress hormones from me in his milk. Last night wasn't so bad, I got up to feed and change his diaper at 1AM, 4AM, and then at 6AM. Around 7AM, he was hungry again, which is no surprise since he has been eating hourly for 4 days straight now, so I breast fed him in the laying down position, which I just recently figured out how to do and is much easier on me. He tanked up on one breast, then I offered the other which he also took. There was mistake number one: I should have burped him between breasts. The rest is comedic if you have no sleep deficit.
The next thing I know he is gurgling like Mt. Vesuvius. I pick him up and he spits up all over my shoulder, back and all over the bed. No problem, I clean it up, change clothes, change his onsie. Been there done that many times by now. I had put him down on his back and when I picked him up he spewed again. I took him to his diaper changing table, changed his onsie again, changed his diaper. While I put his diaper on he pees. New diaper on, and another onsie. I burp him some more. Poop happens pronto, and another diaper change. So far this is par for the course and it has been only 10 minutes.
I lay him down, he cries, I burp him, more milk everywhere. Again I change his onsie, he is still crying, check his diaper, there is pee, change again. I try to get some of my clothes on, putting peroxide on my wounds, changing my bandages, while I have him in the other hand. I start brushing my teeth with the other, and noticed new baby spit up on my shoulder. No sweat, another t-shirt on. I put him in his front carrier he spews on that as well. I take him to the laundry room put down a blanket on the machines and load all into laundry. I carry him to the car, clip him in and drive for donut magic. I get the very last chocolate french, and glazed old fashioned. The ladies at the shop start in on how lucky I am, how they grow so fast and enjoy it while you can. They go bananas over Luca, I nod and leave, put Luca in the car, and drive away with my cup of decaf on the roof.