Cat-astrophes

So I believe I may have become a victim of my own convenience.

Little One has never been the best sleeper. However after a number of weeks we were getting a rough 4-3-2 hour pattern from 10pm with 10 minute feeds. Not too bad.

Yet I was so sick of hearing how other bubbas of the same age were sleeping through the night and having 2hour maps during the day IN A COT...SO sick of hearing whether one should have a coffee or scrapbook with their spare time...so sick of it that I think I felt more tired and run down than I actually was.

And here began the cycle. Rather than leaping out of bed with bountiful bosom bared ready for action, I started the journey of roll, flop, feed. That is, roll over, flop the boosie out, feed the whimpering one and go back to sleep - sometimes during the process.

So then it happened that if I fed her, THEN put her down she would wake and thrash and scream and noone would get sleep. So for the sake of daddy-who-works-6-days-a-week I would rollflopfeed. Soon it seemed she wouldn't sleep at night without a boob in the mouth.

Sounds extreme? Think I'm exaggerating? Try waking up at 3am with a wet t-shirt - not because your boosies are leaking, but because a 2 month old has attached itself to your chest in the hope it can suck something out through the fibres. Oh yes, we co-sleep. Another thing pre-natal me said she would never do...but that's another post...

So here we are. With a wet t-shirt and waking every hour and a half to two hours. I think it's my own fault, but lordy it's hard to convince a 10 week old otherwise when you're too flippin tired to argue the point...and so the vicious cycle...

Rather, it feels more like a competition of who will crack first - mum or bub. Let me tell you I have LOSER written across my forehead.

The wonderful thing about my bag packing effort was that I split things up into multiple bags and labelled them feeling like supermum already - 'labour', 'for baby', 'after labour' (in case 'postnatal' got lost in translation during the mayhem) and 'extra supplies'. That last one I was most proud if because it was evidence that I was prepared for anything. Until my support crew left the lot in the car anyway and my newborn ended up with a folded vest on her head because she didn't have a cap to keep her warm in the first few hours of her life. Already midwives were casting scornful 'negligent parent' looks at the one who didn't pack their winter baby any clothes.

2) Prepare meals in advance - You will appreciate having pre-prepared meals once your new little bundle comes along - let's face it - it'll save your marriage - although you might be more than happy with toasted cheese sandwiches and cup-a-soup, your significant other may start to feel neglected.

You will also need back up in case of well wishers who volunteer to drop off a meal and then turn up with some vegetarian dish that would see any meat-loving male packing their bags and running screaming for the hills. (Just kidding, Amy....we loved it...really. Mung beans are my favourite)

3) Keep your petrol tank full - So that might sound like a given but you'll be wishing you listened when your driver has to pull in to a service station with your legs sprawled apart on the dashboard. Mind you it's also a certain way to jump the queue...

4) Have a back up plan - babies are seldom considerate so forget convenience. If there is ever a moment not to be born you can guarantee it will come then. However this wasn't our case. Our little one chose Daddy's day off. How thoughtful.

This one also applies to birth plans. You know those things they get you to write while you were in a right frame of mind so when you get to the other side you can mock the pre-labour you..."no drugs? Oh good luck honey. You try telling yourself its all mind over matter..."

Stay tuned for another installment. If I ever get around to it that is...

So the plan was to have a beautiful, graceful drug-free hypnobirth and come out the other side 3 days later with make up intact, cleaning done, baby sleeping and a tea in hand whilst typing away about how wonderful motherhood is.

Instead I was cut open after a plethora of pain relievers, opted for early discharge after 4 days because my 'roomie's' Big Fat Egyptian Family came to stay in and out of visiting hours, and set out on a 6 week recovery, crying bub attached to bleeding nipples, dreaming of a shower whilst my hubby did the house work.

I've installed a Blogging app on my phone. With a bit of luck I can provide a chuckle with my good old friend 'autocorrect'.

Okay so maybe I'm being a little dramatic. I wasn't *that* naive, however I also wasn't *that* prepared for what was in store either.

This little thing cries at me, pukes on me, poos on me, keeps me awake at night, is the reason for my oily hair, daggy trackies, stretchmarks and floppy belly...but she melts my heart. With one gaze, goo or gassy smile she has me in pieces. And I wasn't prepared for that.