Making Yogurt at 2am

How did I come to be making the yogurt up at 2am? I wonder this myself, as I stand in the light of the fridge shaking the bottle waiting for the kettle to boil. In the lounge, Baby is wide awake in her bassinet, apparently unaware that 2am is not an ideal time for such wakefulness. But she is content to be so, she is fed, changed, swaddled, quiet. Just incredibly awake.

In the past five and half weeks, I have learnt that I invariably will choose to sleep rather than eat, unless I force myself to do otherwise. I have discovered that I can eat dinner using just my non-dominant hand, although steak proves a challenge. I have also found that it is by far easier to simply remain awake, than it is to allow yourself to start falling asleep and be woken ten minutes later when you are actually starting to relax. "Sleep when the baby sleep's" is great advice. However, you never can be sure when Baby is actually going to stay asleep, or for how long, or if you should take this opportunity to eat or shower rather than sleep as it might be 6 hours before the next chance you get to do so and in the meantime you remain covered in milk.

I have also learnt that The Ellen Show is on three times a day, so if I miss the first screening, I have two more chances to watch it. Today I managed on the third try. Just. (It's the small things).

I am thinking about all of this, in a weird fuzzy slideshow of images as the fridge starts to beep "I've been open too long". I realise the kettle has boiled. Baby is making contented snuffling noises in the lounge, the heat pump is making a racket, pretty sure it's broken, what am I doing standing here?

Oh yeah, making yogurt!

Close the fridge.

After four nights of roughly 2 to 4 hours of sleep and 3.30am starts, I had finally had a meltdown. Phoning my husband at work begging him to please come home early so I could go to bed. Baby wouldn't settle. Nothing that worked yesterday was working today. After last weeks high of 'I can do this motherhood thing', I had crashed into the depths of 'I need to get away from this' territory. Nothing was going well, feeding had become a nightmare after waking up with the third bout of mastitis I'd had in two weeks. I could write an entire blog post about the issues I'm having with feeding, but that's another story.

At least she's cute.

Lucky for me, I'm not a single mum, and my wonderful husband did manage to come home early. In bed by 4pm, asleep soon after. My boobs woke me up at 7, at which point I was forced to get up for their sake. Take Baby off Husband so that he can make dinner, "She's not slept yet" he tells me. I believe him. Back in bed by 8pm, Baby finally asleep, I'm asleep an hour later. Miraculously slept till 1am (boob alarm on overdrive by then). Send tired Husband to bed. 'Baby slept till midnight' he tells me. I'm impressed. A 4 hour stretch. I decide to sleep in the lounge so he can get unbroken sleep from now.

That's how I came to be here. Standing in the light of the fridge making yogurt at 2 in the morning. Having got enough sleep to feel vaguely functioning again, I finally achieve the task I've been meaning to do for 6 weeks now.

Win.