Of expectations.
When my GP told me I could two and a half weeks off work because I was blatantly ill and exhausted, I felt like I’d been given the best present in the world: time. Time is what I always seem short of, these days – time to sleep, time to catch up on avoiding midden-esque status house-wise, time to give the small girl the sort of childhood I so want her to have (insert sickening images of wheat fields and kites, conkers and bonfires etc.) time to give Quercus the chance to finish work on various bits of renovation or construction, time to let him sleep, time to be awake and active and fun for the small girl, time to make dinner, to try to remember that if I look hard, I have still got a creative bone in my body. Time, in short, to do anything except wish I had more time.
Yet here I am, on the other side, and I feel as if I’m back at square one.
Of course, it’s all too predictable – I set myself sort of targets, when given any chunk of time; things which I will get done in that time, states of mind to which I will move in that time, levels of cleanliness or completion which will be achieved in that time. And then, if I don’t manage all of those states, I feel a bit rubbish about it, if I’m honest, which is about where I am now. I ended up having not two but three weeks off, which, added to the leave I’d already booked from work, means I’ve had about a month of freer time than normal. The things I really wanted to do were to see if Quercus going into the small girl at night would rejig our blatantly-not-working-yet-we-keep-doing-it-because-we-can’t-think-of-anything-else approach to her night-time wakings; we managed about a week of this (and it did seem to be helping; she goes back to sleep much more easily for him, and doesn’t expect feeds, of course, from the paternal bosom in the way which she – naturally enough – does from the maternal alternative) before she caught something horrible at a toddler group, and I simply hadn’t the heart to leave her to her daddy’s tender mercies (no matter how tender they truly are), when I knew that a feed and a cuddle from her mama would sort her out much more rapidly in this instance. So, cue a return to the original pattern – up a couple of times each night, much wailing if feeds were not offered, much knackeredness during the day on my part.
Then of course I caught the infection thing too – cue third course of antibiotics this year (and yes, I know they’re not very good for you, but I can’t see I have much choice, given that my immune system seems to be immune to nothing except a hard day’s work).
So, I went to Quercus’s mother, to escape the situation with the kitchen here (no work surfaces, constant dust and noise while Quercus worked his arse off to get the rest of the cupboards finished and fitted, over a very long period if working child-friendly hours) and to give him a decent working day which didn’t have to stop at five-thirty for the small girl’s tea and bedtime wind-down. And then the small girl had a bad bout of teething, and we got even less sleep, together with the normal frustrations of being away from home, under the weather, crabby and surrounded by constant – if well-meant and caring – twittering (and I mean that in its original sense).
So, here I am today. The kitchen is all but finished, which is a very good thing, but I am struggling once more with the constant sleep deprivation. The small girl is getting over whatever it is that she’s been fighting off, but is still a bit pathetic, and the normal activities I’d go for when she’s a bit listless but doesn’t really want to go out aren’t really on the cards because the worktops are covered in tung oil and thus not fit for small bottoms to sit on while baking is undertaken.
Part of me knows it’s rubbish to assess myself by standards of What I Have Done With This Time. I have read Naomi Stadlen’s excellent What Mothers Do, and I believe it wholeheartedly. Wholeheartedly. Except when applying it to myself, it appears. I so, so, so hoped that this time would just let me feel caught up. That the small girl would just sleep through the night on her own, without needing a parental nudge in that direction. That I would spend mornings in happy child-related chaos, and afternoons quietly knitting while the babe snoozed upstairs. This appears to be the day of mourning for the Month That Never Was.
The plus side:
The kitchen is so nearly done. There are cupboards, and I am putting things in them. The attic is half-empty as a result, as are the sheds.
I finished the small girl’s cardigan, and have started a second.
I bought lots of lovely beads and buttons at a shop in West Sussex while staying with Quercus’s mother; these are both playthings for the small girl, and objectively justifiable as crafty bits for me, which gets them extra points.
The not-quite-so-plus:
I’m still knackered, and I’m unutterably sad about it. I feel that this constant tiredness casts a shadow over what is in many ways the best (if hardest-work-requiring) time of my life. And I just don’t know what to do about it.
Tomorrow I go back to work. I’m dreading it, not because I loathe my job, but because, after a month of absence, people will probably ask how I’m doing, and, mostly if people ask that sort of thing, I cry, at the moment. I don’t want to do that. I also don’t feel ready to go back to that sense of treadmill which dominates the week when I’m too tired to be doing the things I have to do; it doesn’t take much for things to feel fine, but likewise, a few bad nights and I’m struggling.
I’m hoping that I just need to get a grip, and that, once the kitchen is genuinely finished, things will seem brighter. There is a list of things I need to do – tax-related stuff because of self-employed work, some copy-editing, booking the cats’ vaccinations – which is genuinely so daunting at the moment that I am employing tactics I developed during particularly black patches on the PhD, evasion ploys which allow me to push unwanted information to one side, pigheadedly ignoring it until my mind thinks it might cope with it. The funny thing is, if I read someone else writing this sort of thing, I’d probably be saying ‘get some help! you clearly need it!’, but I still feel that this will pass, and I will be OK, and we will get there, and all the other things one normally chants at moments like this.
Ugh, in short. I think it’s time for some Earl Grey.
Ah yes, the ostrich approach. I’m good at that, too. Try and downsize your expectations – that way you can feel you have achieved something even if it’s not as much as you would like. But then, who am I to talk…
Does it help if others chant “Get some help, you clearly need it” ?
It sounds grusome, if I am honest, absolutely sure I would not cope, so help, more than time off, may be good. Help to get babe to sleep, help to do tax things – help to get through the day? Not sure what help is, but if a month off ain’t done it, maybe no extended period would.
Does the kitchen completion mark any End To House Making for now? A calmer home may help, maybe?
I do hope something works for you very soon.
This probably won’t help at all but me and my coven (not so much witchy bur winey)have come to the conclusion that everything goes in cycles, up and down and in and out and round and round. Our creativity waxes and wanes and we can’t push it to work when it needs its hibernation. Likewise household order and chaos and our own physical abilities. The little witch will get better at sleeping (I haven’t slept a whole night with my husband for months as the bink seems to be either teething or ill all the bloody time.love him.) Winter is still holding us back but soon spring will start the blood pumping and sunshine will raise your spirits (and show up all the dust laden cobwebs etc but hey ho) Maybe for now you need to go back to basics just like when the little one first arrived – make sure you eat well, get outside as much as you can and exercise, sleep when you can and let the rest of it just wait. It will get better…honest.
Welcome back – I won’t ask how you are because I don’t want to make you sad. And you know I am not a huggy person but have some very good vibes and virtual cups of tea and a manly pat on the shoulder.
PS Get some help you clearly need it
(((hugs))). I do so hear you – the wanting to cry when people ask how you’re doing, the endless exhaustion. And the antibiotics – although you’re clearly needing them can result in you feeling more depleted than ever – can you take a simple over-the-counter tonic? Floradix? A really good multi? Something to give you a boost? I realise it’s peanuts in the scheme of things, but sometimes it can help when your body has so many demands on it and has been asked to give birth, breast-feed, work, be ill, renovate, and then there are the general biological functions of being a female on top of it all.
I once thought the deathly exhaustion would never end, and that it would end me. It’s a fucking tough time of your life. It is, as you say, the “hardest-work-requiring” time of life. It’s a time when help is so sorely needed, and you and Quercus are largely hauling it alone. And yes, it will get better, but right now of course that’s hard to imagine. You do need rest, and accept whatever help is offered to you and Q, whenever you can get it. Steal sleep from any quarter, shamelessly, ruthlessly. And just dump as many obligations as you can get away with.
Darling, it will get better. Honestly. As the others said, just grab all the rest you can and please don’t judge yourself.
has the witchling had her first sleepover at g’ma’s yet? just one day, one night, & a morning away will let you get your sleep. it does wonders in this household!
Number 7 makes a lot of sense.
It sounds like the main problem is the tiredness, which means either you need to get a couple of good nights sleep (by organising alternative care here and there), or, *or*, if that’s not possible, to accept the current state of affairs as a phase that will pass, and manage your expectations of yourself accordingly. Getting your child through the night counts as productivity just as much as doing tax, etc. Even if you might not feel that it does in this man’s man’s man’s world…
I do agree that a night away might be good. I found that although still breastfeeding the Monkey regularly, if I am not there she doesn’t ask for it or seem any more unsettled. Separation and reuniting are hard but the time in between, fun with grandparents, goes very well indeed.
I have a number of friends going through similar sleep deprivations at the moment and I have to say I am eternally grateful that the Monkey sleeps. We’ve been through our share of difficulties with her weight and eating, and it can be very stressful but not as debilitating as the drip-drip of lack of sleep.
And yes- get some help in if possible. A couple of mornings or afternoons with a childminder perhaps? Monkey absolutely adores going to hers and being around other children, and the cost (£3.50/ hour) is manageable.
Practically speaking, if you feel no better at the end of this week, I think you should go back and see your GP again. I second the recommendation of Floradix.
As Z says, it *does* get better. And if the witchling is now less under the weather, perhaps going back to Quercus going in to her at night might work? It sounds as if it was starting to?
And, would you (all of you, or just you, perm any combination you like) like to come and visit on Friday or Saturday night? Or both? The witchling could go in with our two. You could have the room next to them. I could make cake. And bring tea at regular intervals as you sit on the sofa, wibbling.
*hug*
What they all said, especially Ally. But seriously, please don’t beat yourself up. Getting some good nights’ sleep sounds a great idea. The phrase “this too shall pass” is over-rated, but might be worth using as a mantra right now. It’s been a horrendously long winter – hang on in there.
Jan
It will pass, really and truly, it will. Don’t beat yourself up now, lower your expectations and just wait.
My second child did not sleep through the night till she was 2 and half. I was working full time and it was absolutely knackering, though it is surprising what your body can get used to. I gave up altogether on housework and such like and only did what I absolutely had to. I refused her the midnight feeds – and found it did not bother her, what she really wanted was the company in the middle of the night. At 16 months I moved her into the spare bed, which was a baby double. After that, when she woke up in the night I got in with her. Sometimes I just fell asleep and spent the rest of the night there; sometimes I woke up at 3am and crept back to my bed. Either way I could do it without waking her (which always happened if she came in with us and I had to take her back to her cot later) and I got more sleep. By three the disturbed nights were a thing of the long distant past and now (she’s nearly 16) the band of the Coldstream Guards would struggle to wake her up in the night.
I don’t have any words of wisdom. I too judge myself too harshly and am not good at seeking help. I was lucky that this week it was offered to me without me needing to ask. Sometimes you have to give yourself a break, easier said than done, I know.
hugs.
Ditto all those wise comments above. Don’t know whether this will make you feel better or worse, but my little bear is three and stll doesn’t sleep through the night. Do you co-sleep? I swear that was the only freaking way I got ANY sleep the first year and a half.
You can get something called (variously) 5HTP which does the lovely melatonin thing which leads to blissful, rested sleep even when it’s short. Also how’s your iron? Perhaps some supplemental goodness needed in the short term to get you out of winter?
You’re not going to like this but… Have you thought about weaning the Witchling? It would solve a lot of your problems. Night and tiredness ones.
Not sure why you are beating yourself up over tax things? Either they should have been done by 31st January, or you don’t need to bother until nearly 31st January next year. If they are tax year 2008/9′s then you’re already in penalty so you need to prioritise them above everything else.
And as far as help goes – if you didn’t do the self-employed stuff, you’d have fewer demands, more time (and so energy), and so need less ‘help’. And you wouldn’t need to do Self Assessment!
If you’re really feeling no better, don’t go to work, go back to GP and get another couple of weeks off.
Sorry, I only do practical…
The blurry, fuzzy memories I have (not all of them are blurry and fuzzy mind, but the sleep-deprived and frustrated ones often are) entail a lot of breast-beating about how little I was getting done. I look back now and am honestly amazed at how much I was doing with small things rolling around underfoot and cutting teeth and refusing sleep and other distracting things. From your list of things – self-employed work, editing, “regular” work, mothering, baking, knitting, remodelling etc – it truly sounds that you are accomplishing huge amounts. I realize that’s likely not helpful as it doesn’t address the long list we all maintain of things that SHOULD be done, but if someone else were to reel off the same set of things wouldn’t you, just a little bit, think them rather impressive really under the circs?
I know what the answer likely is but – can you nap when the Small Girl goes down? I never could (just not set up for napping, with me it’s sleep for hours or nothing) but it works wonders for a lot of people, even if you can just dip under for fifteen minutes or so…
((hugs)) and listen to Ally and Bluewitch! Yes, it WILL get better!
I am going to be practical like Blue Witch. And I will tell you my experience, knowing that it may be counter to your philosophy. I started exactly in your place, though, so please do give it a read, anyway. The long and sordid story of my son, summarized: we went until he was about 18 months old; he had already night-weaned; we were getting up with him many times a night, and carrying him around until he fell back asleep, sometimes for hours at a time; I felt exactly as you describe. I didn’t want to let him cry or feel deserted. We hit a wall and couldn’t take it any more. We consulted with some doulas trained in sleep-training. I won’t lie: the solution they proposed involved crying it out, which I had been very opposed to previously. *But* it was also done with a lot of structure and care and was not nearly as terrible as I envisioned. They also convinced me that our current situation was bad for him: that he was sleep-deprived too; that he was confused and disoriented from falling asleep in our arms and waking up (as everyone does throughout the night as their REM cycles shift) in bed. We developed a whole new sleep routine, full of structure and explanation about what we were doing. When we implemented it, we had one night of 45 minutes of crying, a second of 15 minutes, and from then on–a year and a half later–he has NEVER woken up at night (with the exception of one or two bad dreams). He is just the same child as ever, not traumatized or changed in any way.
We then had a daughter who is now nine months. Just recently I was able to night-wean her with very little grief by cutting down one minute per side at night. one feeding at a time: ten minutes per side the first night, nine minutes per side the second, etc. We had a little crying the night that we went from one minute to zero (not coming in) for the first feeding. Interestingly, she began eating much more during the day and dropped the second feeding completely on her own. Something like that might be a less radical technique that could work for you.
It can feel against every fiber to listen to a child cry and not come in, but I have ended up believing that children are smarter than we give them credit for and they can and do adapt easily to limits when we set them. Not only that, but I truly believe often it’s what the child really needs. Just as, for instance, a toddler would happily eat cupcakes for every meal if you let him, even though he’d feel sick, children may wake up because they know you’ll come in–the immediate reward being the one they consider.. Your witchling may need a solid night of sleep as much as you do. Sleep also makes being a happy parent much easier.
Even if you’re definitely not willing to let the little one cry, perhaps there are some local people who specialize in sleep training? I know the people I worked with, for instance, can and do work with people who will not CIO, or people who are dedicated to co-sleeping, etc. It can be more time-consuming or challenging to work with these constraints but they recognize these are very important values for some parents. Try getting in touch with post-partum doulas–they may offer these services or know who does in the area. Some may consult by phone if you don’t have anyone in your immediate area.
I only night-weaned our daughter about ten days ago, as I got off-track in sleep training despite vowing to never let it happen again. So I am all too familiar with what it feels like to be exhausted and woken up multiple times per night. It is terrible. Since I started getting sleep again I feel like a completely new person. Do get help, no matter what sort it is–you need to, and when you do, you will feel SO MUCH BETTER.
I forgot to say, much virtual warmth from this internet stranger, no matter what you do. And your other commenters are right, you are doing a TON. Even if you weren’t tired you have a lot on your plate.
Wow. Thank you, all of you, for your presence in this little box ‘ere – I am genuinely touched, whether you’re a regular face or a delurker commenting for the first time, that virtual strangers (har – pun, geddit?) take the time to let me know how things worked out for them, or what helped, or just that I’m not completely bonkers for feeling the strains of our current situation from time to time.
What we’re doing now is the lovely routine known as Daddies At Night – Quercus is back on night-call, and I am off. Last night, quite out of the blue (last night was to have been the first D.A.N. turn), the small girl slept the entire night, from bedtime at seven until twenty past six. I do feel much better for it, though I know that to truly feel better, it takes me about three weeks; she had an extraordinary bout of sleeping entire nights around Christmas, and when we got to night twenty-one, we both realised that we were genuinely feeling like different human beings. So, it’s a good start, but I think we both feel that we’re in it for the long haul now, and we need to bring about a change if we (for which read: me) are to remain sane. I hope that the D.A.N. idea won’t have to be a permanent fixture, but if a short-term change means she sleeps more soundly and for longer at one go, then, as L points out, that’s got to be for her welfare as well as ours, to say nothing of the fact that us getting more sleep makes for far more interesting parents, I think, in that we’ll be far more resourceful than we are at the moment.
I’m seeing my GP again on Wednesday, as, even though today seems a much brighter, shinier place, I do want to talk to her about how to ascertain where the line between depression and exhaustion has been crossed. I think I’m just tired; I think that more sleep, brighter days, and an awareness that I’m only human and thus subject to the normal laws of physics is what’s called for.
So, I’ll keep you posted, as it were. And thank you again, all of you.
Spring is coming! Light nights and long days, rooms filled with sunshine…
Im a rotter and was horribly strict with all 3 of my tiddlywinks at night times. I did breastfeed all 3 while they wanted me. Up to about age 3 usually, but once they showed signs of being able to go through the nights for a few nights in a row, I weaned them off of night feeds and kept them off, despite the noise!!! Its painful but by golly it makes you a happier person/mummy in the daytime! It happens quite quickly if you are consistent. Mine were about 12 weeks ish.
We are all different though and at the end of the day you must weigh it all up and follow your heart, remembering that allowing your baby to cry while she adapts to a pattern of rest and sleep is not going to scar her for life!!! But becoming a demented and unhinged Mother will!!!!
Cripes, hope that comes across in the right way!
I can’t help but read into your words the call of that which is a nice, lovely, orderly kitchen where chaos does not exist. A freshly cleaned and happy kitchen is my all purpose salve. When’s the tung oil going to dry?
Just to add my voice to the many many others – it does feel never ending when you are in the thick of it. Although I didn’t breast feed past about 6 months my son wanted me when he woke, and wake he did, 2-3 times a night and then staying awake from 5am onwards for the first 3 or so years of his life. It is gruelling and I so feel for you but it does stop eventually. And eventually the first thought when you have more than 5 seconds to yourself is not ‘how can I get my head horizontal and close my eyes without anyone noticing?’ You will get back to all the wonderful creative stuff, and you already sound like a wonderful creative mother and person. Soak up all the support and positive thoughts that are coming to you through this site and, I would guess, from many other directions too.
Exhaustion is horrible to live with.
I have also had the experience of going away to relax and coming back feeling as tired, if not more so.
It seems to this kitty that you havent actually had the time or space (mentally or phyiscally) to relax. Constant change is tiring. There is no way around that. You have had time off work but it was filled with all the other things, so you didnt rest. You went to visit Q’s mother but I dont know about anyone else, but I cant actually fully relax at another person’s home. In my own home, I can wander around naked if I really feel like it but when staying elsewhere, you live by their rules. This isnt as relaxing.
My thoughts would be to go back to your G.P. and get another couple of weeks off work. Hopefully, the kitchen will be Done and you will actually get some relaxation in your own home. Ask about your iron levels as well, that can make you very tired as well.
My final suggestion would be…. bananas. Eat some. They boost energy short term but when you feel it, dont then go ‘bananas’. Instead enjoy the feeling. Take a breath of fresh air in your garden and just relax.
Oh and, by the way, according to a friend in the know, knitting from a pattern is concentration intensive and uses a fair amount of energy too. This could be part of the reason why you came home exhausted still.
Just some thoughts.
Well. I now understand why you were ready to do a handstand when your daughter slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Indeed! I think you need to give her away. No, not forever! Just for a day or two. She’ll have a ball at Grandma’s house. I was raised by a single mother and we spent every second weekend at our grandparents’ house. It was fantastic and as a result, we developed a wonderful relationship with them that few of my cousins share. My mom took that time to do some work, spend time with her friends, clean, shop, whatever.
It takes a village…
PS: What is a “conker”?
Thank you all for your lovely thoughts, suggestions, and general support. Much appreciated, as ever – I am very lucky to have such lovely commenter people.
And DW, a conker is the large brown nutty effort which horse chestnut trees produce, and it looks like this.
Oh yes!! We have these. We just call them horse chestnuts. How boring. I will now use every opportunity that presents itself to call then conkers and educate my fellow (underprivileged, vocabulary-wise) Canadians on how I learn such interesting things on the internet.
I’ve just started reading your blog and I have a feeling I’ll be asking you many times to translate portions of it for me. If you don’t mind, that is.
I don’t mind at all, DW – more than happy to facilitate international vocabulary exchange, or something… If money was no object, I should like to conduct such a campaign by moving to Canada myself – would love to live in BC. One day, maybe.