My loyal readers, I love you so, and yet I am afraid I have not been entirely honest with you. If you’ve been keeping up with my posts, you likely think I am about to finish up my first week back at work. That is not true. As you can see from the below picture, my working lunches continue to involve C-Dub and his sister LB and not my lovely co-workers at the Colorado Attorney General’s Office. Let me explain:
Shortly after posting about going back to work, I had a couple of super rough days (no sleep day or night, lots of crying and snot, all-around no fun for anyone near me). So . . . I contacted my boss to push back my start date until after the holidays, changed up my meds (again), and hired a night nanny for the past three nights. Not to jinx anything, but I dare say things are looking up.
I have slept (some) although C-Dub’s cries really do carry and I’ve been too lazy/busy to go buy ear plugs. Still, it’s the best sleep I’ve had since my third trimester, so we are talking six to seven months here people. That’s a lot of shitty sleep.
Sleep deprivation is crazy making. I admit I was crazy in the first place, but mostly in a highly-organized, kind of anxious, sometimes weepy but mostly fun sort of way. These past four months pushed me closer than I have ever felt to for real crazy: questioning myself and everything in my life; wondering whether I could or even wanted to keep going. Not fun stuff to wrestle with anytime, but especially not when you are also trying to meet the daily (and nightly) demands of two newborns.
We still don’t have the sleep thing figured out but some of the pieces are coming together. Basically, LB is the BEST BABY EVER and can probably sleep through the night if Cal would just shut up already.
Cal, poor little guy, seems to have some sort of tummy issue that makes him hate every formula (and even my milk when I was nursing). He gets all burpy and gassy and just generally so uptight that he howls most of the night. So, we’ve moved him to the basement (only temporarily and not by himself, of course). I also purchased the most ridiculously expensive formula ever invented that promises to cure all our problems (or at least Cal’s sleep-related ones) in just 48 hours. Unfortunately, there is no money back guarantee that I am aware of because man this shit is expensive.
I think getting the little ones sleeping better will go a long ways towards making me feel better, too. But I know that lack of sleep is not the only issue I need to deal with if this whole mother of three three and under thing is going to not kill me.
First, I am WAY too uptight about basically everything. Things like unexpected guests and being late to appointments and not having enough diapers in the diaper bag can no longer be life-and-death situations. Or, I will die. They just are what they are. Let it go, breathe, and all that crap.
Second, I really really like being in control of my surroundings. Books go in the book place, etc. That would be the OCD talking. Again, this is something I’m going to have to let go of (to the extent medically possible). Once the twins are on the move, it’s game over in terms of an orderly household so I may as well start giving up, at least a bit, now. Like maybe not making my bed and Henry’s bed every morning. Baby steps, right? (ha, pun, sort of not really but you know what I mean).
Third, I have got to get better at delegating household tasks. Even if I know it’s not going to be done right (i.e., the way I would do it), at least it will be done. Done is enough. It has to be enough. Except when I delegate the grocery shopping and end up with less than half of the goods on the list provided to my designated shopper. That’s not enough.
Basically, it’s a perfectionism thing. I have lived the last 36 years under the false belief that if I just worked hard enough long enough everything could be perfect and then I could be happy. This is a big fat lie. Depression lies (thank you, Jenny Lawson) and so does perfectionism. I’m never going to be perfect and I may only be happy at times, but I will know joy, lots of joy, in large part because of my (unexpectedly) big family.
So here’s the truth: I didn’t go back to work this week because I didn’t feel ready. Not because I didn’t feel perfect, but because I didn’t feel even functional. I’m going to take a few more weeks to get well and to be with my babies. The rest can wait.
P.S. In the course of writing and editing this post, I learned that the super expensive formula does worse than nothing for C-man. Totally colicky all afternoon. What a rip off! Still . . . trying to stay positive. Plus, the hubs agreed to ride it out with him in the basement tonight so not really my problem. Such a good man.