It's 3.22am. I've been up since 2 with DS who is 15 weeks and I can't help but reflect on life since he's been born.
Horrific reflux and colic from weeks 1-11 saw me diagnosed with severe PND (obviously not the only cause, but certainly a contributing factor). DS literally never slept more than 45m at a time at night, wouldn't feed, had terrible trapped wind, was grumpy all day, wouldn't nap. When I was convinced it was reflux and went to the GP for help, I was dismissed as someone "looking" for there to be a problem and that I just had to
Accept that I had a "difficult baby"
We sort of got the reflux under control (different GP prescribed medicine) and we had a "good" few weeks; he dozed during the day, ate a wee but more, started sleeping for longer stretches, he smiled!!
But this week has been truly terrible again. Either the reflux is back with a vengeance, or DS is an early teether. He's spent the last week screaming/shouting all day, gnawing at his hands, refusing feeds and naps and had now been up for two hours crying on and off. He's starving but won't let himself eat.
I feel awful about it, but I can't help resenting how much my life has changed while DH just potters along. He's asleep in bed next to me and only has to deal with the crap for an hour or so a day. He doesn't do night feeds (works away a lot and v. Stressful job when he's here) and, while he helps at the weekends, it's often easier just to do things myself as DS rarely settles for him because he's not around so much. He still goes out (evenings and weekend nights) but, while he's offered to look after DS, I know l couldn't enjoy myself as I know I'd have to deal with his issues the next day. DH , while lovely, will sleep through anything and doesn't have the sense of immediacy needed when dealing with DS. I end up doing way more than my fair share and it's very, very draining.
I've been chained to the house since he was born; at first, due to my anxiety but now because it's "safe". Everything I need is here and I can't stomach the thought of going out.
I miss my life pre-DS and I hate myself so much for wishing things back the way they were. I miss the challenge of my work, the lazy days off, going out for a walk without packing the house, the peace and quiet. I miss likings DH and not resenting him for not pulling his weight.
Most of all, I feel like a total failure because I can't make DS happy. He's bloody miserable 90% of the time and that's my fault. I should be able to help him but I can't. All I can offer is a sodding dummy and a resentful cuddle.
I bloody hate myself these days. I don't even recognise myself.