I realize I haven't posted in a while and that is entirely because of said 11-week-old infant. Every day is a little different and we haven't quite gotten on a schedule with her yet. I have also found out that some babies are strictly regimented by their parents from birth while others, like mine, have a basic order of operations for the day that has no concrete timing.
My usual day starts at 7am with her first feed, followed by 30 minutes of awake time before she is down again for a nap. During that awake time I try to drink a cup of coffee to rid myself of the drowsy after-effects of getting little sleep the night before.There also may or may not be a massive poopy diaper at this time, but my husband handles that. He also makes breakfast which is fantastic...after all, I am providing breakfast for our baby.
After her early morning feed I try and compose an idea of what the day ahead will hold. I find out what my hard-working husband has in store for the day and add up the total number of hours I will be home alone with Lyla. I figure most of that will be feeding, changing and napping...but I also try and fit in some tummy time (which she and I both hate doing) and some time to play. Playing at this age just really means talking to her and dangling toys in front of her face. During her naps I try to get some house-work done and watch some t.v.
The real struggle comes once 4pm hits. It's called the witching hour because your sweet predictable baby turns into Satan and is hell-bent on destroying your will to live. Lyla hasn't had a bad witching hour for almost two weeks...until last night. Beginning at 4pm she cried until 9pm. She didn't cry non-stop but she cried consistantly and nothing I did could make her stop. I rocked her, I walked with her, I put her in her swing which only made her cry harder. The few moments I got her to fall asleep she would instantly wake up if her binkie fell and start screaming bloody murder. Of course at 9pm when my husband walked through the door she was finally asleep, on me, and looked like an angel. I could've hung myself right then and there.
The whole day ends with me trying to create a bed time routine of feed, swaddle, and down in her basinet with white noise. This has worked so far and she seems to understand it is night time. How long she sleeps and how many times she wakes up at night is still kind of a crap chute. Typically, however, she eats between 9-11pm and wakes up around 2am, and 6am...this varies by two hours on either direction, some nights are better than others.
And then I wake up and do it all over again. One day I will put on jeans and makeup and have full days of activities with a happy baby that sleeps through the night. But today is not that day my friends. Today...and all the days that have come before it are about survival. Today is the day to be in my pajamas until 2pm when I change into spandex to "get dressed". Today is the day to have my tits on tap and available at a moments notice. Today is the day to be covered in breastmilk and get nothing accomplished except writing a blog post.
XOXO
Lisa
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