I am in the stage where Tiny (my 3 month old) is refusing to nurse for most of the day. She screams bloody murder if I try to get her to nurse, or breaks away 5 minutes into the feeding session and refuses to continue. Days are long and exhausting. Yesterday looked like this:
You could take that as an analogy for how stacked with stress my life is, or at face value: I haven’t done the dishes in three days.
Last night Tiny finally konked out around 7:15pm after an entire day of fighting the breast and not napping (She did take two -tiny- naps in the morning). Hubby and I went to bed at 7:30pm because we couldn’t handle the day anymore. I fell into bed exhausted, figuring that, Murphy’s Law, Tiny would be up in an hour. She was not. It was such a blessing. But more so was that when she woke at 10:45 to feed, she actually nursed. For a full session. On both sides. After a long day full of screams and fussing it was beautiful to just hold her. To just be.
This is why I cherish the night feedings. Sure, it’d be great to sleep through the night. Yes, it gets exhausting being up every 4-7 hours every night (and I have it easy compared to a lot of Moms). But right now I wouldn’t trade it for the world. These are the times I can sit with my daughter and simply appreciate her. I can pray for her, for her future. I can think over the day (and sometimes regret over the day) and come to peace with it. Night time feedings are my zen time. My God time. My therapy. Will there come a day where I would trade the world to sleep through the night? Probably. Will I one day wean her off of night feedings? Yes. Will that day be today? Absolutely not.