I love that people try to help. Really, I do. But there's the old adage about "no good deed..."
In preparation for our trip to Texas, I was a breast-pumping fool. I'm not sure what I thought, but I was pretty convinced having roughly 405 bottles of milk on hand, just in case, would solve any and all road trip issues.
On our drive out to Texas, a trip we did in two days, I used approximately zero of these bottles.
No worries. You can save and store breast milk and having a stockpile means that if there is a day where I ever discover five minutes for myself, I might actually be able to enjoy a glass of wine or two.
Texas is where Michael's family lives and many of the D-Zo clan came out of the woodwork to meet The Bean. And because The Bean is the cutest thing ever (see Exhibit A, entitled "Bean and Nana"), people were more than happy to hold her, change her, feed her, steal her, what-have-you.
Which means one thing for Mama.
Sleep.
On our first night there, the impossible was going to happen. I was going to have a full night's sleep. People (namely Michael and his mom) were going to take shifts with The Bean so I would be able to sleep from 9 PM to 6 AM...something that has not happened since well before The Bean was on this side of the womb.
I don't mind feeding The Bean every 2-4 hours, but if people are willing to take on the graveyard shift...you jump at that shit.
This was going to be better than Christmas and Free Ice Cream Scoop Day, combined!
At 2 AM I awoke in a pool of drool deep enough to drown a very short chicken [editor's note: it's 3 AM, cut me some slack]. It was clear I had not moved a muscle since my head hit the pillow at 9.
So why the hell was I awake now?
That pool of drool? Turns out it wasn't drool at all. I was leaking. You know, from my boobs.
I knew I would be missing a few feedings because we had bottles and willing folks to feed The Bean. My boobs never got the memo and continued the milk factory production at full steam ahead levels.
And like an overfilled water balloon, I popped.
So there I was at 2 AM...pumping...because, naturally, The Bean was fast asleep having enjoyed a bottle not 20 minutes earlier.
Whirrr Suck, Whirrr Suck, Whirrr Suck, Whirrr Suck...
I Didn't Win.
However in the interest of full disclosure, I was able to pump in 15 minutes and get right back to bed and sleep until 6 AM as planned.
So I Didn't Lose.
I awoke so well rested. There was nothing I couldn't accomplish that day if I wanted to rustle up any give a damn (I didn't).
I profusely thanked Michael and his mom for letting me sleep. I saw the world as a shiny, happy place of love and possibilities. Glitter was shooting out of my ass and I didn't have one murderous thought all day long.
That afternoon we began our trip back home and pulled into New Orleans for the night.
Everything was business as usual and after dinner we settled in for the night.
When The Bean awoke for her first night feeding at midnight I wanted to shove daggers into my eyes and die.
NO!
My body was in full-fledged revolt mode. It had tasted freedom and normalcy and a brief encounter with non-exhaustion...and it was willing to shank a puppy to get it back.
But I don't have a wet nurse. Or a dry nurse. Or even a clever, dexterous dog who can feed The Bean bottles while I sleep the night away. So I pulled out the boob and we quickly fell back into our routine of feedings every 2-4 hours.
My night of sleep ended up being a tease and threw off my schedule enough to make the next few days hell as I readjusted to my life of "sleep while you can, milk bitch."
So I Lost.
No comments:
Post a Comment