Sleepless in Steubenville.


How can I put this? Last night was one of the worst nights of my life. The actual worst was probably the day after I gave birth, when I was so utterly exhausted that my brain was fried; and when the nurse asked me “do you want us to take the baby into the nursery for the night, so you and your husband can get some rest?” I refused. Why… WHY?! The rest of the night consisted of me rolling over onto my stitched up lady-parts to nurse my baby, with the world’s sorest breasts. That was probably the actual worst.

But, the “worst” was last night. I had a migraine, and I also felt like I had food poisoning. At least Sophie is sleeping soundly, I tell myself. The Bright Side. Well, the bright side became dark very quickly. After an hour of tossing, turning, and trips to the bathroom. I hear a cry. I check the time: 10:50 pm. We’re not even into tomorrow yet, people! I nurse her while holding back the nausea. I try to rock her to sleep, which only intensifies said nausea, so I lay her down, and she seems fine.

Back in bed with Hubs: more tossing and turning. At first I feel chilled, then my body is on fire, yet the breeze from the fan feels like razor blades on my feverish skin… and cue the nausea. I suppose I dozed off because the next time I hear a cry its 2:45 am. Husband takes this shift for an hour, he fails. I go in, seem to be having success, but then also fail. We tag teamed it like this until 5 am, when Hubs finally got her to sleep. Praise Jesus.

From 5-7:30 am I actually sleep. A deep sleep. A deep sleep where I vividly dream about the teething pain that has just kept my baby and I up all night. I go to the doctor, in my dream, and he tells me that the only cure for Soph’s teething pain is for her to consume a tarantula, live and whole. WHAT THE HELL. Dream me, finds this to be perfectly normal, despite her fear of spiders which transcends the subconscious and real life, and proceeds to hunt a tarantula down in the wild. Dream me finds said arachnid, and gives it to dream baby. Dream baby doesn’t like grub as much as dream me expected her to, and she only eats the legs. Disturbing, I know. In fact, I believe it was so disturbing that my own mind had to wake me up, because the next thing I knew, it was light outside and I heard Hubs leaving for work.

So the moral of the story is: no matter how tired you are, it’s never ok to feed you baby tarantulas.

The End.

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