No no, I am fine. The sleep deprivation isn’t that bad.
Sure I might not be able to form a sentence, or count to ten, but I’m good, really good.
I promise the reason I didn’t skip breakfast at this morning’s family gathering has nothing to do with my being too tired to concentrate on the manual task of making a decision about what I might like to eat, dealing with a knife and fork, navigating a plate of food, and keeping an eye on a sleeping baby.
It was because… ummm… Ok, so I’ve got nothing!
Which is weird, because who knew having a baby would actually improve my quality of sleep?
I know, it sounds strange, but I’ve never slept well. But now I fall asleep so much more quickly and deeply than I have ever experienced in my adult life.
However on the same token, my being is so tuned into Emily, I dream about her, then when I awaken from my slumber, and have to drag myself through the thick layers of consciousness, I become momentarily confused, because I think I have already fed her, or already had the conversation with my husband about the state of her nappy, the temperature, or what time it is.
Sometimes it is difficult to open my eyes because they are so heavy and feel like they’re full of sand.
And I wish she’d settle herself back to sleep, even though my breasts are achingly full, and desperately ready to be emptied.
But this is not to say I haven’t enjoyed her company this week. Because as with every other week, she has grown, developed, and come more into herself.
In fact, I couldn’t have been any more proud than when she looked directly and with purpose at her daddy with those big baby blue grey eyes, and loudly farted in response to his question regarding the amount of washing she was causing. Or when she reached, out and swatted her new dolly over for the first time, or lifted her neck higher than ever before, or… Oh whom am I kidding? I love everything she does.
I especially love how she snuggles into my chest like an echidna after her feed.