Some kind of new and improved super cold has swept through my household. Features include: extreme fatigue, nonstop dizziness, the inability to sleep, fever spikes at night, plus 33% more used tissues. Call now while supplies last.
The dizziness was a serious concern for me, as it got so bad that I didn't feel safe driving. I could barely focus. I think this is what was keeping me from sleeping, because when I closed my eyes, I could feel the world turning around me and it would cause my body to tense up. When I did sleep, I dreamed of swimming or falling.
C got it, of course. I had to use the Nosefrida on her, which is nicer than the bulb thing but she still screamed. At least she got to nurse after that.
So often during motherhood I feel like I am of two minds. One mind is the conscious one, the educated anxious one that tells me I need to turn the TV off so that C's brain doesn't rot out of her eyes whether she's actually looking at the screen or not (she's not). The other is the quiet whispering brain, silently guiding my actions with the steady hands of generations of mothers before me. So often, I discover that I am the one who is holding C back, second guessing myself. "She's too young for that" I'll say. But the next week, despite my louder brain's protestations, I move my three month old to her big crib with barely a blip. Next she's trained out of needing her swing for naps. Then she's eating tuna (!) at just seven months. It's maddening. What would have given me a heart attack a few weeks before seems like no big thing today.
This all comes on the heels of my worry that C is going to wean soon. Sooner than I would like anyway. I really love breastfeeding her, but her excitement about solid food is unmatched. She still eats the baby stuff, but practically demands a small bit of whatever you are eating, be it turkey or bread or spicy chicken or pickles. A month ago I was getting weepy reading about "The Last Time They Breastfeed" stories. Now I sense it on the horizon, and while it will make me a bit sad, I don't think I will cry a single tear.
Growing up, moving on. I wouldn't, shouldn't and downright can't keep her a baby forever. Just the other day I noticed that I really don't need the diaper back with me all the time like I used to. It's an oversized purse right now. And I still have the co sleeper next to the bed, but only to hold things like towels for side lying feeding and a+a blankets that have become C's comfort objects (the sleeper also makes a convenient guard rail, C would have fallen off the bedside multiple times by now by distractedly popping off and rolling over if it wasn't right there)
And then there is perspective. As in, keeping it. It's hard to stay strong about something without second guessing yourself because your LO is crying or giving you the puppy face or just seems so darned persistent. Are you sure you don't want to give in? Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it, or I feel guilty for not. And then I have to tell myself, "You're not starving, hitting, or otherwise abusing her. She gets everything she needs and most of her wants. You don't have to cave for this." Shit's hard man. Shit's hard.