Numbers dictate my life currently. My life is measured in the number of hours, ounces, and feedings. It has taken on this bizarre, rhythmic pulse. I’ve noticed that I’m counting everything without meaning to: the baby’s swallows, my steps during my walks with the dogs, how many times I pat the baby to burp her. I suppose this may be influenced by the machine cadences around me: the baby’s rock n play, Ember’s sound machine, and my breast pump. My ears are inundated with machines whirring, buzzing, and pulsing, and the monotonous beats have consumed my life.

Ivy is almost 3 weeks old, and I’m still functioning at mostly-zombie level. Ivy is a sleepy baby who would rather sleep than nurse. That may seem great, but it’s not when the baby needs to gain weight. This means I have to wake her to make sure she eats. Waking a sleeping newborn (at least Ivy) is much tougher than it sounds. This also means that I worry about her and feel a bit more pressure and anxiety regarding her growth than I did with Ember. Despite saying it would be easier this second time around, I swing from normalcy to lunacy in a hot second. I told my husband yesterday that it reminds me of being really drunk but not quite drunk enough to not remember acting like an idiot. I am aware of the times I’m losing it, but I’m unable to stop it. I’m not sure if the culprit is hormones or sleep deprivation (or both).

I’ve never known sleep deprivation this thick. Ember was bottle-fed primarily, so Rob took lots of the night shifts for me in the early days so I could sleep. Ivy is mostly breastfed, and I have a newfound appreciation for all women who have somehow survived breastfeeding a newborn. I often wake cradling a pillow, panicked that I’ve fallen asleep holding the baby. In the dark hours of early morning, when the feeding time alarm buzzes, I stagger through the house, not quite human.  While feeding her, I struggle to stay alert and to help her get the job done (she’s not the best nurser). When she cluster feeds from 4 -7 am, for example, I try to be patient, but it’s so hard. The lure of sleep is so enticing, and man do I miss it. Ivy is allowed to go 3 hours at night between feeds, and I try to take advantage of those chunks of time when I can. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out that way.

The days I barely sleep, I’m a mess in every way. I struggle through the day, barely functioning. I’m moody, cranky, and emotional. I sway or rock without a baby in my arms and forget easy, everyday things. I forget my zip code, for example, for several minutes while standing in front of the check-in kiosk at the doctor’s office. When I do enter the zip code, it’s wrong, and a full minute passes before I remember it. I forget to eat breakfast and can’t remember if I fed the dogs. I’m a shell of myself the days that I don’t get much sleep. The worst part is that the days I don’t sleep much are typically better for Ivy because that means I spent more time feeding her and less time sleeping. Ember Eve also makes feeding Ivy difficult since she tends to treat me like a human jungle gym and because she is fascinated by the baby and wants to be near her and touch her.  Our breastfeeding journey may not last much longer, so I’m trying to remember to enjoy it.

Thank goodness for family and friend support during this difficult, sleep-deprived time. We are so very blessed to have amazing friends and family who have supported us with their time/help, food, baby items, and their kind words. We are so very fortunate and lucky to have two beautiful girls. I know this time will pass quickly, and I’ll probably look back and feel nostalgic about this messy, chaotic, exhausting time in our lives.

(Photo: this is what a Temkiewicz looks like when you wake her from a deep sleep)