It’s 3am and I’m trapped on my bed, wide awake, with Noah trying to fall asleep on my chest. These days, I am his preferred bed and I don’t really mind it most of the time, but not when he can’t sleep and does belly flops on me at random moments. I’ve gotten hit in the face by his head quite a few times already, although he doesn’t seem to feel any pain when he does that.
I’ve been thinking about writing this post for some time really, especially when I’m in the shower. You see, I’ve only just realised that those precious minutes I spend bathing are the only ones that I get which can really be mine. It’s the only time that I can’t really hear him if he cries and I get to pretend that I can spend hours in there if I want to. Sometimes, I just stand under the running water for a few more minutes than necessary, savouring the feel of the soothing water and the extra ‘me time’. Basically, the rest of my time is controlled by the little man. What about going to the loo, you may ask. Nope. I go only when he allows me to and even that is a rushed job because you never know when the whining will start again. I feel like I’m always either feeding, burping, bathing or diapering him!
Today, I had to use my left hand to spoon food into my mouth, while my right hand supported Noah’s head as he nursed. That’s something else that I’ve learnt, by the way. I have to become ambidextrous in order to survive, and my feet have also been called into action, switching the fan on and off or picking things up from the floor. It’s a steep learning curve but I’m thankful that Noah is generally quite forgiving and patient with me as I learn how to manage him. There are bad days, of course, like last night when he simply refused to sleep for four hours and just whined away as I tried various ways to get him to sleep, but the wide smile that he greets me with in the morning just melts my heart.
My smiley baby
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