Confessions of an Exhausted Mom with Saggy, Sore Boobs

So here it is, my friends.  These are the confessions of a mother who slept maybe 2 hours collectively last night (meaning, I was up every 15-30 minutes, sometimes for an hour at a time).  To say I'm exhausted is an understatement.  I know that my emotional and mental state could be altered by this extreme tiredness, however, I've hit a brick wall.  The things I'm about to confess to you are very real.  I am not looking for encouragement.  I am not looking for someone to talk me in or out of my current decisions.  I need to release these thoughts; admit these things to myself...out loud.  If I don't, it will be to my own detriment.

I'm done.  Done. Done. Done.  I have nursed my sweet child for a year.  Over a year to be exact.  As I sit here typing this, my nips are throbbing, aching, and covered in a mix of blisters and scabs.  I blame the teeth. Those bastards have been nothing but trouble since they started to arrive, for both me and Em.  Poor girl can't catch a break!  She has two teeth busting through at the same time.  I have a cranky baby on my hands who needs to stick something, anything, but most often my boob in her mouth for comfort.  She nursed all.night.long.  Please don't confuse this nursing with the need to eat.  My daughter does not wake up to eat in the middle of the night.  No, she wakes up to nurse.  She wakes up to pacify.  I know she needs relief for her gums.  She has to find it somewhere else.  I can't do it anymore.  I hate that I have to admit this.  I don't want to deny my daughter anything.  Nursing has given us an amazing time to bond.  It has brought me joy in the past.  I have spent many nights staring at her, running my hand over her skin and her head, marveling in miracle that she is and how awesome it is that I, her mother, can provide nutrients and comfort at one time.  I have cuddled her close during these nursing sessions.  I have breathed her scent in, stared into her blue eyes, scene the twinkle behind them letting me know she content.  I have rocked her and sang Twinkle Twinkle a thousand times during these same sessions.  Yes, there was a time when I enjoyed it.  That time has come and gone. The pain has become too great and too often.  It's different from the newborn stage.  There are no "6 weeks" and then the pain is gone.  This is constant.  I've had milk blisters every few days for the last 2 months.  I've had sore nipples, clogged ducts, and saggy boobs from 8 hour nighttime nursing marathons.  I do not enjoy it anymore.  Not one bit.  I do it out of duty.  I do it because I don't know how to stop.  Confession #1.

Co-sleeping has too become more of a burden.  We started co-sleeping around 4 months so that I could get more sleep.  We enjoyed it.  I loved having her snuggled close.  I was able to get 4-6 hours of sleep a night, not in a row, but collectively.  That's like sleeping for days compared to what I get now.  As Emma has become mobile and started teething she has become restless.  She no longer sleeps deeply enough to stay asleep.  She's tosses and turns, rolls, flips, stands, rocks.  I'm lucky to get a 2 hour stretch at the beginning of the night.  After her 1st wake up it's hourly, sometimes every 30 minutes from there.  We've made some adjustments - adding the sidecar crib, turning off the TV when we go to bed, running the humidifier all night long as our white noise machine.  Nothing helps.  The sidecar crib was a success in the fact that she will sleep on the mattress and is ok sleeping away from me.  It does not, however, provide me with an ounce of peaceful sleep.  I hear the movement, I must check on her, even if she's fast asleep, I am not.  The time to transition her to her room has come and gone.  Again, I don't know how to do this, but we must do it.  She's right in the middle of teething so I won't thrust these changes upon her today (although, I desperately wish I could).  I will wait this out, but I'm hoping we can make changes starting next weekend.  Confession # 2.

I'm at my wit's end.  I'm miserable.  I hate admitting that.  I hate that I dread bed time.  I hate that I want to cry every time she latches.  I hate that I feel as though I will explode from the inside out and end up in a puddle of tears in the middle of the floor.  I hate that I cannot comfort my daughter without counting the minutes and waiting for the moment I can put her down in her bed.  In the last week I haven't had more than 30 minutes to myself.  This 30 minutes usually encompasses a shower, that's it.  I hate that I'm not strong enough, patient enough.  I hate that I can't be happy.  I hate that I get frustrated with Em.  I hate that the frustration and aggravation seeps through my pores.  I don't yell, but my tone of voice, my words, they are short fused, clipped, edgy.  This only happens at bed time.  It still happens too often for my liking.  I find myself covering her in kisses and cuddles, apologizing time and time again.  I'm not sure if I'm apologizing for my short fuse, apologizing for the pain I can't take away, or apologizing for being less than the perfect mom she deserves.  All of the above.  Confession #3,4,5,6...

I feel trapped.  Trapped in the viscious sleep/non-sleep cycle.  I'm worn out.  The exhaustion has chipped away at my mind, heart, body, and soul for too long.  I see no end in sight, and that wears me even thinner.  I'm treading water, but more often than not it feels like I'm holding my breathe, trying not to drown.  My heart hurts.  A year later I should be better at this....right?

I'm not.   And it sucks.  Confessions over.