Mommy meltdown

I’m tired y’all.

My man has been back at work for just over a month. I’m so fortunate to be married to an academic. He gets most, if not all of the summer off. So, for those first crazy months trying to adjust to being home from the NICU, adjusting to Raz’s heart monitor, and re-learning how to parent a baby my partner was home.

Well, spoiled I am no more. The hubby commutes to teach at a college a little over an hour away. There’s only so much support a man can give over text message. Sympathetic frowny faces, suggestions, and reminders of where I put my blasted keys are about it. This momma is on her own and I’m tired.

I was absolutely determined to breast feed Raz. I didn’t breast feed Damon. This is one of my biggest regrets and biggest sources of guilt. My son died of an infection. I didn’t provide him with my immunity. It’s my fault. You can point out the obvious. Thousands of children grow to be completely healthy on formula. Mine didn’t. This is the first time I’ve ever “said” that out loud.

But my rainbow baby had his own agenda. When he was born six weeks premature and unable to oxygenate his blood he was far too weak to breastfeed. So, I started pumping. It sucked (no pun intended). He received my milk through a feeding tube, what little I was able to produce. Once he was able to eat I tried to breast feed then pumped at every feeding. He refused to breastfeed but I kept trying. The nurses kept telling me that once we got home and I could rest I would produce more milk. I was dubious. I was barely keeping up with him and he wasn’t eating much.

Lo and behold we came home and my production dramatically improved, thus began my love hate relationship with my pump.

For those few glorious months while the hubs was home it wasn’t so bad (except for the actual pumping part). I could hand my little one off to his daddy and go pump. It wasn’t fun but it worked and I was successfully providing my child with the immunity I had failed to give Damon.

As you can probably imagine once we finally got to hold Raz we weren’t so interested in putting him down, like ever. Therefore our little rainbow learned to sleep in our arms, pretty much exclusively. Fast forward to now with a mommy still trying to provide breast milk and a baby who refuses to be put down. There’s lots of crying in my world.

Add a very bright, very inquisitive, very busy seven year old with a life of his own and you have the perfect storm of mommy melt down.

I’ve said it before but I need to hear it again so here goes.

Losing Damon does make me more aware of what really matters. There is so much that just isn’t important and there are a precious few things that so very very are. My kids, my husband, my family top the list. BUT this doesn’t mean I’m some sort of Zen momma. This doesn’t mean that I don’t want to go hide in my room so I can go five minutes without someone needing something from me. It doesn’t mean parenting ceases to be SO FREAKING HARD.

I just needed the reminder. I’m gonna go cry now.

Until next time.