Hello 6.23 am.
How are we not better friends? You'd think, having become well acquainted, we might have found some common ground by now.
As it is, I actually hung out with your not-too-distant friend 5.20am to begin with. I must say I can't see us liking each other at all any time soon.
It's that time in my cycle, you see. When the aversion sneaks back in to bite me...and my feisty 15 month old, who seems to want to nurse maybe hourly (I don't really know, I'm too tired to waste precious time checking the clock. Instead I make plans for if, when and how I might empty my aching bladder) does NOT understand this. Well, I never expected her to but still, it makes for a fraught start to the day.
5.20 am. She starts her half-sleep cries for milk. I shudder. I realise the idea of letting her even try, right now, is going to make me want to curse and punch things. I tell her the milk is finished. I offer her dummy. She angrily pushes it away. I tell her again: milk is finished, you can have your dummy. She escalates, quickly, into rigid, back-arching, red-faced, tear-and-snot-streaming screams of anger and despair. Despite my motherly, innate desire to make her feel better, I still can not bring myself to give her what she needs. My body recoils. My heart hurts.
This goes on until my husband steps in (the pre-schooler is awake now, offering suggestions) and takes her heavy, raging body into his own arms. At least I get a physical reprieve. But watching her writhe and scream still hurts me. And her toddler wails of 'Mama!' make me feel incredibly guilty, frustrated and angry all at once.
See, I love all the parenting philosophies that aim to respect and nurture your child in their every need. And, needing breast milk is such a natural need. It's nutrition, emotional comfort and more. But when your own body is having a rebellion against this supposedly simple act, things all get a bit out of whack.
My 3 year old, at this stage in her own breastfeeding journey at the same age, transitioned surprisingly easily to being night-weaned using the Dr Jay Gordon's gentle method. But the idea of doing this with our now-toddler has been given a massive reality check after the last 2 nights and our hideous experiences. I had been just willingly feeding during the night until the aversion came back. When it first hit enough to stop me feeding her, last night, I thought 'oh well, this is a chance to teach her there are other ways to get back to sleep'. Wrong.
This morning, it has been confirmed. She is not ready: no way, no how.
Trying to hold back the negative feelings in those moments is a huge undertaking. I am not entirely successful in it yet. Though, after the shock of yesterday's incident I was more prepared this morning. Instead of the more angry emotions, I resorted to tears. Well, I think that's a step up, anyway!
My dear girl. You are such a tenacious thing. Full of determination and adventure. You certainly know what you want, and that's a good thing. But, sometimes, it can be so hard to see that clearly. And, even more so when it's either the middle of the night/stupid o'clock in the morning, or, later in the day after a particularly broken night.
Yes, some people would say I need to change something; that my sleep is important, too - and I agree. I long for more sleep. But, I cannot force my daughter to endure such emotional upheaval for this reason alone. People, on the other side of things, may remind me that it is only a relatively short phase in my life. My children will be older and more independent in the blink of an eye - and I will miss their dependence. But, while I appreciate that sentiment, and try to see each day as a blessing...well, it's not realistic. I am only human! Sleep deprivation is a torture method, it can break your spirit. But you mustn't let it. Keeping your eyes on the prize is important: the future of your children. What keeps me going? Sometimes it's just my desire to be a Good Mum (whatever that is), sometimes it's the hope that, when they reach their teens, they will welcome me to sit with them in the special space of their very own bedrooms and open their hearts to me...sometimes, well, sometimes it's coffee.
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