NOTE: This post was written two weeks ago after my first night home with Samantha.
Last night? Our first night home? Did not go so well.
Little Samantha Joy was awake most of the night, wanting to nurse or poop or hiccup or spit up or nurse some more (or more or more) or just be miserable, because this life outside the womb stuff is SO not what she expected. Oh, and she discovered how to CRY. Or maybe she always knew, and it's just much louder in the dark, quiet of our echo-y room than amidst the constant hum of a hospital.
Either way, let me just say...I'm tired. I feel awful complaining after one night of no sleep, because I know this could go on and on and on and lots of people suffer from real sleep deprivation. But I guess I just gave birth. To a very large baby. And that was just a TAD tiring. And you don't get a lot of sleep in the hospital, because IT'S 3 A.M.! and WE MUST CHECK YOUR VITALS!
And I guess you're kinda still running on adrenaline (and edible chocolate gifts...mmm) in the hospital. But at home? With a mom who's already exhausted and ready to go home after having spent the previous three days with your two rambunctious toddlers? Not so much. There's no more adrenaline rush. No nurses waiting on you hand and foot. There's no call button. There's no magic nursery waiting to watch your baby so you can sleep. There's just reality.
And reality is saying, GO TO SLEEP, BABY.