Oh my goodness I’m a mommy blogger!

And the title of my blog is certainly fitting. I knew people joke about less sleep, but boy they weren’t kidding.

I think the first thing I learned from Aria is how often she needs to eat. The nurses in the hospital gave me a paper log to keep but I would forget to write it down and would lose track of when and how long we nursed for. But the real trial began when my milk came in and all of a sudden it became simply imperative that I feed her at exactly the time she becomes hungry, which is right around every two hours during the day.

I decided to let technology help me and downloaded an app that let’s you keep track of which side, for how long, and reminds you that its feeding time again after two and three hours. But I swear its defective because every time I look it it’s saying we’re only 15 min until the next feeding time.

The day slips away so quickly when portioned off in meticulously measured out little two hour increments.

I really can’t complain though because she does go longer at night. Not to mention that after the first two nights of being at home, where there was literally no sleep to be had for the indescribably weary because her days and nights were flipped, we managed to find a compromise. The deal we made was that I promised to feed her when she wanted and would get up at night to keep her sated, and in return she’d allow herself to be worn out during the day and would sleep all night long except for feedings and diaper change demand-tations.

It was a trial of wills before reaching this agreement, which I was sorely losing. Not only was I exhausted, and neither Eric nor my mom, who is staying with us for a few days to help, could help because I’ve got the money milky bags, but also it was exceedingly painful to do the necessary sit ups to extract myself from bed to tend to her… which I did repeatedly when she refused to return to slumber-state.

The second night of this culminated in an early morning appointment with her pediatrician, and I was running on about two hours of interrupted sleep, and frustration, and c-section pain that was exacerbated by the nightly workout routine. And also hormones. While I was standing at the counter checking Aria in I had to excuse myself and turn aside so that I could weep silently to myself. My mom came to see if I was OK, and another lady behind the counter handed me a tissue.

Well the appointment went fine, she was measuring great and was checked off as a healthy baby, but she had to make sure the doctor knew how malnourished she was by sucking on the doctor’s hand as she tried to hold her up.

I think the best part, however, was when I was checking out and scheduling the next appointment, and the lady said, “and you might want to look at this” and handed me a brochure on post-partum depression. (According to that I just had baby blues. Yes, I read it. Just to be sure, you know)

So Aria and I made our pact, played throughout the day and before bedtime she got extra helpings, and, good to her word, after each nursing session she went right back to sleep.

We’re working on night four of this arrangement and so far we’re both in agreement that this is a much better way to live.

Now we just have to work on making the day longer so two hour bites don’t eat up the whole day and leave behind that empty calorie feeling.

PS thank you to my friend Dana for your helpful tips on how to keep her sleeping through the night

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