Things have been rough lately. I’ve been feeling almost as low as when Liam was first born.
I’ve been struggling with what seems to be the deadly combo of a teething baby, going through his 6 month growth spurt, with his first cold of the season. He hasn’t slept more than 2 hours at a time in weeks. Normally, I get maybe 2 hours initially and then he drops to an hour and a half, then to an hour and then down to 45-30 minutes. The only thing that’ll calm him is nursing.
This past week, I started having trouble falling asleep. I sat awake from 1-4am, begging myself to sleep. At some point Pat noticed me struggling and he sat up with me and talked me through it.
I am getting through, mostly thanks to Pat, tea and sheer determination. I’m seeing a new therapist, which is good, but is still in the “dredge everything up” phase of introduction. It’s like seeing a chiropractor for the first time. After the first set of adjustments you feel awesome. Later that night you start to feel worse than you did initially and wonder why the hell you paid someone to do this to you, even though its just your body healing and getting used to being put together properly.
I have been trying hard to combat the isolation and loneliness by going out and meeting people, seeing friends, etc… It’s hard though. I feel like the broken toy, the wet blanket. I don’t feel like I bring anything to the table. I don’t know how to ask for support.
Today marks 6 months since my son was born. It’s been such a roller coaster. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but we’re still adjusting.