It keeps getting better.
And then it keeps getting worse again.
Max was never one to sleep through the night. On average, he was sleeping about 4-5 hours a night, then waking up to eat, then back down for another 2-3 hours. When he was 12 weeks old, I went back to work, and the poop hit the fan.
During the day, he seemed perfectly happy at daycare. Not clingy in the morning. And when I picked him up, he barely seemed to acknowledge me, But at night, he started waking up every 45 minutes.
Now I was working full time and was not getting more than one hour of continuous sleep. I felt like the subject of a bizarre, cruel sleep experiment. I was always dreaming. My eyes would close and I would start dreaming, and then the baby would cry and I would wake up, feed him, and plunge back into a dream. I was exhausted from waking but also exhausted from sleeping.
At our last doctor's appointment, the doctor suggested we try "cry it out." This made me cry. Anyway, it would be difficult, as we live in a one-bedroom apartment and the boy sleeps in our room. Brian and I made some adjustments — we turned on a fan for white noise, we switched places so he slept closer to the boy, I changed my diet a bit. And it worked. We were back up to five hours in a row. For a few nights
And then Max started to teethe or something, and began waking up every hour shrieking in pain. After a few nights of this, we tried those homeopathic teething drops. And they worked. We were back to 4-5 hours a night.
And then Max got a cold. He was up almost constantly, and when he was asleep, his breathing was horrible and raspy and labored.
I have been such a mess. At least once a week I have a total anxiety attack meltdown where I cry uncontrollably and beg god to allow me to sleep a little more. I've been bargaining. I'll get up twice to feed. I don't mind that. Just please. A week. And just 4-5 hours. I'm not asking for much.
I am pretty low as far as functioning goes. On Sunday, I put up a wash at the laundromat, then met Brian and Max for brunch. When our server brought out our food, I had a vision. I said, "Oh no, Brian, I threw the entire box of dryer sheets into the washing machine."
And I had. The box completely disintegrated. But dryer sheets held up just fine.
This morning, I was leaving the restroom at work when I volunteer said sheepishly, "Uh, Miss?"
I turned to her, and then a male coworker started to pull me aside. "Deb. Your skirt. It's kind of stuck."
I torqued my body. Yes. I had tucked my skirt had into my tights. I started to feel embarrassed, but then redoubled. "Ha!" I said. "You couldn't have seen anything, because I'm wearing a girdle to suck in all the loose skin on my belly."
I felt triumphant. But my coworker and the volunteer looked horrified.