I bathed baby at 8. It took her until 10 to fall asleep. Why so long? Mainly because she was still hungry. I gave her the milk I pumped today but it wasn’t even 3 oz. And for the past 48 hours she’s been refusing any other milk: cow’s milk, goat’s milk, the formula we mix up for her. She guzzled my milk, however, meaning that she needs more milk but it is not available. Once again, the failure of my body means that my daughter is hungry.
And my husband injured himself again today. The latest in a constant stream of injuries over the past few months and years. No idea how long he will take to heal this time, but it means another delay in getting back to work. We both really really hope that his body can recover soon and stop this cycle of constant debilitating setbacks. My dream of quitting work to stay home with baby recedes further and further.
And then, there is the usual array of chores now facing me at 10 instead of 8:30 or 9: kitchen clean-up, diapers and blogging. Though husband said he would get to the kitchen tomorrow.
Bright spot? Holding baby at mom’s when I went to pick her up. She was asking for me, cuddled right in, nursed and fell asleep. I held her, stroked her hair and loved her. I thought of Anaya, a baby who passed away yesterday, and mourned for her family while I was so grateful to have my own girl safe and secure with me.