Utterly exhausted

Ugh. Here we are again. I am so utterly, wretchedly knackered that I am having total sense of humour failure. Which is a shame because I was hoping to provide some slightly more uplifting posts this week.

But New Babe isn't going longer than 2 - 3 hours between feeds during the day, and not much longer than that at night, despite being three months old. Which has made me wonder if my milk is less 'top of the' and more the 'semi-skimmed' variety. First Babe was well-established on five feeds a day by this age.

So, this evening I got OH to offer New Babe a bottle of formula. Which he took straight away! (Having acted like he had no idea what to do with a bottle for me, and rolled it about in his mouth before dribbling all the milk back out). I'm hoping it might help him go a bit longer tonight. Will keep you posted! Just got both boys to bed now, so will have to dash off myself in a mo. Gosh, the thrills and adventure in my life... My step-father asked at the weekend if I do any singing or drama in the evenings at the moment. I could have knocked him around the head with a saucepan, so removed is he from the reality of my existence. (And for those of you feeling shocked or worried at the thought of me acting or singing, well I haven't since I left school.)

But back to the bottle, so to speak: I could dwell on the politics of breastfeeding, and the guilt I feel at putting some formula baby's way, but I won't. Suffice to say that people - well, other women mainly, let's be honest here - are pretty quick to judge your actions when it comes to the whole breastfeeing lark. A lovely woman at my active birth group told us today how, when she reached for her formula in a cafeteria the other day, the woman at the next table said loudly to her friend, 'You'd think she'd be able to feed it herself, wouldn't you?'.

What a bloody cheek! My friend went over to her and said quite calmly:
'This is my third child under the age of five. I breastfed the first two successfully, but for some reason this baby needs a formula top-up after each feed. Perhaps it is because I am totally, utterly, ball-breakingly exhausted and can't provide her with enough myself.'

Why should she have felt the need to explain herself?

Anyway, I'm hoping to start to see light at the end of the tunnel. I am neither energetic nor good-humoured, and sensing this, Babe is doing his best to keep me on my toes. Which backfires on him badly, poor little mite.

OH seems equally tired, but was wonderful last weekend. He took Babe off to kiddie-gym as usual, at 9am prompt on Saturday, agreeing to park, farm and fast-food establishment it afterwards so that I could have a couple of hours to myself while New Babe slept. When he hadn't, unusually, dropped off by half ten, I felt ready to bawl, as could see my one break slipping away from me fast, so called OH. Crying down the phone, somewhat hysterically, it has to be said.

He drove back, marched upstairs, put the plug in the bath and the hot tap on. Then he grabbed New Babe and the car seat, and disappeared with both boys until lunch time. (Think he had probably been letting Babe 'play' in Asda and the pet shop, but whatever...) Babe had fallen asleep in the car, and after a feed, New Babe finally dropped off too. So we had a blissful hour and a half to ourselves. Amazing how once you reach lunch time, and bed time is no longer an eternity away, you start to re-discover the will to live.

And amazing how a hot bath does revive. Think I'll have one now before I hit the sack. Wish me well :)