Ok, so here goes, this is my post for the week. Please feel free to critize(oh how DO you spell that?) it! I'm looking to improve and want to know how. I can take it, I swear.
Oh, and I wasn't sure if we were allowed to polish things up, or if we were supposed to just type what we'd written, so this is just as I'd written it.
Two o'clock in the morning
Two o'clock in the morning. The babies are crying. It's colic, a food allergy, I think. But I can't figure out to what. We haven't been to bed yet.
This is an every night event. They begin to fuss about 11. By 11:30 they're miserable. My husband offers to stay up with them. To rock them and walk them and sing to them and try to ease their discomfort. But what would I do then? Put a pillow over my head to block out my babies cries and go to sleep? I would
know they were crying, even if I was successful at blocking out the noise.
Better to be here, on the couch, rocking them, singing to them, letting them know that I could never sleep while they hurt.
I have done this before. Eleven years before. When their oldest sister had the same discomfort. She could only be soothed by being walked, and so I'd walk and count each round trip of the apartment. Maybe after 100 times she'll sleep, I'd say. Maybe after 500, I'd pray.
With two babies, I can't walk. My arms would fall off! So we rock and sing, sing and rock, from 11 to 3 each night. Well, from 11 to 2. From 2 to 3 we rock and we cry. From sheer exhaustion. After a few weeks I know when it's 2am, becaue I begin to cry, like the chimes on my mothers' grandfather clock, right on time.
And then they nurse again. And as quickly as it came on, it stops. They sleep.
I climb, drag, myself upstairs, a sleeping babe heavy in each arm. I ease each of them down, to the mattress beside me and sink wearily into bed. To SLEEP.
Ok, so I had to edit a little bit. It's darn near impossible to put in parts that you NEED to change.
I'll be away til Tuesday, and I'm already jonesin'. I can't wait to read what everyone else has written! Start postin'.
Follow Mothering