Dreams & Schemes: April 2014

I think most - nay, every - pregnant woman winds up hearing more than her fair share of horror postpartum stories... sleepless nights, endless screaming, stubborn extra weight, hair falling out (baby's and yours), and on and on and on. People seem to relish in telling you how hard your life is about to be.

Here's a confession: I was a good couple of weeks into motherhood and secretly thinking I might get away with skipping a few of these. I actually enjoyed most nights, Scarlet seemed pretty happy and we felt natural, okay - the weight thing is plumb unavoidable, but I could handle it. I retained my hair, and Scarlet continued to rock her signature gorgeous locks.

Turns out, I was mistaken. Scarlet's got a bald spot, I'm losing hair by the handful, and the nights - oh, the nights.

While obviously Scarlet has always needed to eat at night, we used to have sweet, quiet feedings and then mutually glide back to peaceful sleep in-between. It was heavenly in its own way, and I didn't even feel that wiped out from waking up several times throughout the night. I quipped that my many years as an insomniac "trained" me for motherhood. *chortle-chortle-chortle*

Even worse, a week and a half ago, I fancied myself really something when we actually had a bit of sleeping luck with Scarlet, which I proudly dubbed a "breakthrough" and was ready to wash my hands of nighttime wakings any day now. HA. HA. HA. But seriously, she was sleeping for über long periods (like 6-7 hours) and only having one middle of the night feeding and one early morning feeding. And the naps! The naps were amazing! I actually went in a few times as she rounded the 2-hour mark to be sure she was still breathing (she was). I walked around for three days virtually beaming with pride.

Then, after the third day of glory, Scarlet didn't nap well, which I chalked up to being at my sister's house and away from her own room and didn't worry about it too much. As it happens, that was the beginning of the end of our "breakthrough" and the beginning of whatever-hell-you-call-this. That night, and for more than a week now, I can scarcely get her to sleep more than an hour at a time - day or night. And, to add insult to serious injury, she has really mastered the roar/growl/scream of a seriously, and I mean seriously pissed off baby, which we affectionately call "Scary Scarlet."

So, allow me to fully, humbly admit to my five readers and Internetland generally: I was wrong. This is hard. I'm exhausted. My heart aches. My ears ring with her cries. I'm not Super Mom, and I really, really wish I could help my sweet baby find peaceful and much needed sleep, but I can't.

Oh, and I'm having a glass of wine.

Confession complete.