It’s 21.20 and I’m lying on my bed with 3 week old Seb snoring in my arms. To anyone on the outside looking in, the scene would look like pure bliss and I guess if I take a minute to let go of all the stress and tiredness, I’d see it too. But I can’t.
I’m shattered. Alan is shattered. Seb is shattered. The last few days have been hell and we are coming to breaking point. Seb hasn’t slept more than 2-3 hours for the last few nights and he only slept for about 3 hours today. The poor thing is wrecked and Alan and I are stressed and confused and at our wits end with what to do.
It’s not that Seb isn’t a good baby. He really is! It’s just that for some reason he decides not to sleep then gets overtired and won’t let himself fall asleep. Either that or he falls asleep only to vomit and wake himself up, then not get back to sleep as he is overtired. It’s a vicious circle.
It doesn’t help that he seems to be a complete mummy’s boy. I’ve only been apart from him twice in his 21 days in the big bad world. Once when I went for coffee for around 90 minutes and today when I was out for 40 minutes. Both times he was asleep when I left and both times he woke up and screamed the house down. It’s like he sensed I had gone.
So as I lie here with Seb in my arms snoring, while Alan is in the study trying to get some work done through the fog of tiredness, while the dogs (dear love them in all of this) are waiting patiently to be let in from the back garden, I pray, and I mean PRAY that tonight will be different. Tonight will be THE night that we turn a corner and all get some sleep. Because if we don’t I think I might just cry. Again.