checking in from the fringe

Having a baby is difficult.  Not that that should surprise anyone who has ever had one.  Hell, we 'knew'
(or at least heard) that going in, but nothing quite prepares you for it.

I didn't think that, without a job intervening, sleep deprivation would be much of an issue.  There are two of us after all.  I was horribly wrong in this assumption.

It doesn't hit you all at once either.  The first few days are difficult, but you manage on pure adrenaline.  Then the next week or so you actually feel pretty good (provided things are generally going well) before the crash occurs.  The past week I have felt alternately weary, achy, easily frustrated, and generally kind of like I have the flu.  I realize this is neither unique nor unexpected, but it does add a degree of difficulty to pretty much everything.  I laughed when Josh (a good friend who just had a baby) talked about how his 'to-do' list went from lengthy and a measure of some accomplished pride to a much more abbreviated form.  I do the same.  I used to mark of things in quick succession, and now I feel pretty damned accomplished if I mow the lawn and run to the store in the same day.  Every task becomes a coordinated effort or does not happen at all.  

And time starts to slip on you as well.  Monday blurs into Tuesday and then you wake up on Friday and can't remember how that happened.  We keep careful track of feedings, diaper changes, and medications not because we are obsessive, but because we would have no idea what time he last ate (provided he didn't remind us, which he does), shat, or had a clean diaper.  You find yourself eating breakfast at noon not because you couldn't muster up the energy to make it at 9, but rather because you didnt get to sleep until 5:30 and didnt manage to get up until 6 hours thereafter.

Things begin to accumulate in piles everywhere.  A week's worth of opened mail here, some packing materials over there.  That table that you just cleared off yesterday is not heaped with burp rags, binkies, and various baby-related flotsam.  Bottles line the counters either drying or assembled and ready for the next round of feeding.  Of course, it looks far worse than it is.  But with neither the time nor the energy to tidy it all up, it continues its creep forth.

"Sleep when he sleeps" is an oft repeated refrain to cure the ills of deprivation, but it is far easier to say (and it is evidently very easy to say since nearly everyone does) but far less easy to do.  When Quinn awakens, it is usually to be fed.  Then he needs to be upright for a bit.  Then he needs to be changed.  Then the bottle needs to be cleaned and Quinn usually needs some time on our persons.  Then, by the time you get him back down, you catch a glimpse of your unshowered, unshaved visage with hair that would make Tim Burton look twice.  You clean and brush yourself, change, eat, and just get ready to lie down and, you guessed it, feeding time again.  

I know this is largely complaint driven.  We have been very fortunate to have a healthy baby who is doing well and isn't overly fussy and family and friends who have pledged support when needed.  We know we are blessed to have each other as we both work hard to do our share and take up the slack when the other needs a break.  We are doing, all things considered, pretty darn well.  Still, it isn't easy, and I feel okay in saying that here.  I know one day this will be over, Quinn will be able to respond to us and sleep in larger chunks of time.  Our lives will return to some semblance of normality and maybe, just maybe, we will look back fondly on this time.  But for now, all I can think of is curling up in bed until tomorrow.