sweet dreams are made of this

November 24, 2006

i would give anything in the world for a dark, cool room with fluffy pillows and a down comforter and 8 solid uninterrupted hours to myself. actually, 8 hours and a bed of hot coals sounds just fine at this point. most days, i get an average of about 6 hours of sleep, in one and a half to two hour increments. at night, i sleep sandwiched between two babies, turning towards one and then the other to stick a nipple in a sleepy mouth and drift back off to sleep while they nurse (it's a wonderful position we recently discovered called "side lying". i recommend it). but with jeremy teetering on the edge of the bed, our intimacy has been reduced to holding hands across the bed or playing footsie under the covers. in the morning, he goes off to work and i'm left to fend for myself and juggle two tiny little humans with only my two hands and a couple of swollen breasts to get us through the day. it's absolutely nuts. i feel like a warrior.

but my kids are f*ing beautiful. as exhausted as i am, and as maddening as it is when they cry and cry (both at the same time) for no reason i can decipher, i find myself staring down at their little faces while they nurse and being absolutely transfixed by the beauty of it all. i imagine part of it is hormonal (oxytocin, i think it is. the hormone that makes you sleepy and fall in love with your baby while you nurse) but it's also incredible to see pieces of yourself in such a tiny little person. i even marvel with tenderness at their bodily fluids. for instance, my son is anal retentive and requires a glycerine suppository in order to poo. this means that every two days, i stick my finger in his ass in order to stimulate his "tight rectal opening". and my daughter produces enormous slimy boogers on a daily basis. unless i suck these out, homegirl grunts and snorts like a little pig when she nurses. not to mention the mustard-colored poo that leaks out of their diapers, the constant spray of spit-up that i wear, the rings around my nipples from leaking milk, or the fact that my son has peed on me countless times already. it's a messy world and i am not disgusted by any of it.