One post partum side effect I despise is the emotional rollercoaster. I would imagine it is similar to having a severe form of bipolar disorder; sometimes my hormones are a pendulum of crazy ideas and crying fits. What is really funny is my newborn has the same problem, just a different root.
So far I have not been very tired for a few reasons. First, my daughter has been a good night sleeper, sleeping 3 to 3.5 hours before wanting to feed at night. So, I end up with about 6 hours. Second, my toddler still takes naps during the day for about 2 to 3 hours, and I have been able to get my newborn to sleep while she sleeps, so I get a nap during the day. Third, I have not been taking any pain medication that will make me drowsy during the day or disrupt my sleep at night, nor have I had any pain. When I have slept, it has been good, deep sleep. My toddler has also been so worn out that she is sleeping almost 10 hours a night, through the night. Lastly, I have been on such a natural high because the birth went so well, the baby was so healthy, and my toddler so easily content with the baby that worry has not kept me up at night, and during the day I have energy. However, the one thing that has made me tired is the emotional rollercoaster of hormones that puts outrageous thoughts in my head and makes me cry over spilled milk, literally.
Breastfeeding has definitely been easier this time around than with my last child. Abby was what the lactation consultant called a "love sucker" because when she was upset she wanted to use my nipple as a comfort item. As a result, my nipples became extremely raw and bled. This time, although MacKenzie had a little trouble with latching, she did not do any extra sucking. My nipples are sore, but only when she latches on at first; it doesn't hurt the entire feeding. However, the fourth night Kenzie was home she stayed up until 2:00 in the morning, and the crying game began.
She had slept on and off all day, but around 9:00 she was awake and alert. She stayed that way, fussing about every 10 minutes or so. She had eaten, wasn't wet or dirty, and we had given her gas drops since she had been gassy. However, she kept wanting to eat. All I could think to myself was "oh no, not another love sucker." I figured she was tired and trying to put herself to sleep, or her belly was upset since newborns don't really know the difference between hunger pangs and gas pain. But, I had already given her gas medicine. My husband was busy putting our toddler to bed around 10:30, and Kenzie was still not going to asleep or even being remotely content. I was not content either since one nipple was sore and scabbing; I had let it get engorged and let her feed on it, so she couldn't latch well and caused the scab and pain. I was trying to pump that one off for at least a day to give it time to heal, but that night Kenzie wouldn't give me the five minutes I need to pump. I could feel the breast getting fuller and by midnight it was completely uncomfortable. My husband was on the sofa sleeping since Kenzie was being fussy and he was trying to reduce her stimulation. By 1:00, deliriously tired due to lack of a nap that day, I broke down and cried. I cried that my breast hurt. I cried that she wouldn't go to sleep. I cried that my husband wasn't able to feed her. I cried that I was tired. I cried that I was completely alone in my bed. I cried that my daughter must have some crazy health problem and that this would be a permanant state of my life. I cried that I was crying and didn't know why, and that I must have postpartum depression. I cried thinking about all the women who hurt their babies when they are recovering postpartum. I cried at the thought of hurt babies. The pendulum was swing hard, hitting every fear a new mother has.
Crying, I walked into the living room, sat on the loveseat, and turned on the t.v., forgetting my husband was there. My husband looked at me like I was a hallucination, probably confused that the baby was not asleep. I told him she wouldn't sleep, she was whiney and I had exhausted all of my resources. He took her, walked around with her, bouncing her and trying to burp her. After gaining my composure, I pumped the sore breast, applied some lanolin, and stretched out in the bed, not asleep but on edge that I would have to let her suck all night just to sleep. My husband walked in about 15 minutes later, reporting she burped a tiny, princess sized burp, flopped her head to the side and went to sleep.
The next morning I thanked him; even though he is my husband and Kenzie is his daughter, I still thank the ones who deserve it. As women we often take on too much because we feel like our children come out of our bodies, so we must be the only ones with the remedy to fix them. But, sometimes, to win the crying game, you need an outsider's perspective.
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