Planning The Guilt Trip

It is no secret that I wanted a natural birth. There are many (and good) reasons for this. But one random reason was purely for the guilt trip it creates for your child. This is the conversation I imagined with my son someday:

Me: Please take out the trash, Guy.
Guy: I don't really want to.
Me: Yes, well I didn't really want to spend 14 hours in a hospital room trying to force your melon head out of a hole the size of a plum, but I did. So take out the trash.

I mean, it's the ultimate argument winner. And true, I can use the fact that I had major surgery to have him, but somehow it's just not as weighty as the labor I had expected.

But then, I realized that every mother has the ultimate argument after the first few weeks, because labor can't be any more exhausting than weeks on end of sleep deprivation. It's brutal. So I think I'll just trot out this schedule whenever Guy wants to get out of hard work...

Around 8 or 9:00 p.m. G gets fussy and tired. We change his diaper, clothes and begin night time prep. This includes me locating my nursing pillow, lanolin cream for my chewed-up nipples, water mug filled with 36 oz of liquid that I will proceed to drink all of during the night, my iPhone and headphones for entertainment, and a swaddling blanket. I quickly try to brush my teeth and put on PJs, because the moment G is soundly asleep, I will attempt my first shift of sleep as well. Once G is in a fresh diaper, we get into bed and I nurse him, usually for about 45 minutes before he falls asleep. You would think this would be followed by putting him in the crib and blissfully passing out, but no. If he is put down too soon, he either spits up violently or he begins making a strangled sound akin to a large chipmunk choking on a walnut. This, of course, also wakes him up. So I hold him upright against my chest to ward off that unpleasantness.

After 10-15 minutes, I can risk putting him down, but this only means its time to swaddle him. I do it as if I'm wrapping a bomb, but it still wakes him partially, so afterward I spend another few minutes rocking him back to a deeper sleep before I can try putting him in his bassinet. By the time I do put him in the bassinet, he's been sleeping off and on for about 20 minutes. I lay him on the mattress gently, turn his head to one side or the other and then retreat to my place in bed as fast as lightening. I basically throw myself onto the pillow, and shut my eyes in hopes that I will immediately pass out (which I often do). Because, chances are, I will be woken to start the whole rigmarole again in about 45 minutes.

 This goes on at least 4 times during the night, if not more. And if he's on a 2-hour feeding schedule, I get a glorious hour of sleep each round. Sometimes, he's nicer to me and he stretches the feedings to 2 and a half (or, as in the case of one amazing night, almost 3 and a half) hours. So, at best, I usually get about 5 hours of  intermittent sleep.

So, when Little G complains that he's too tired to do the dishes, I'll bring this out, read it to him, and remind him that I was never too tired to feed him, so he can do me the tiny favor of scrubbing a few pots and pans. So THERE.