Well, it’s been a month. And it’s been a month, if you get me.
In a couple of days, Annika turns four months old and I daresay month three-to-four has been even rougher than the notoriously rough newborn days. Okay, maybe I’m just blocking out those first weeks, but seriously. My darling little baby who poops rainbows and farts daisies is perfect in every way except for the fact that she will not, as Samuel L. Jackson rasps, go the fuck to sleep.
But otherwise perfect!
I think it’s a combination of (1) her being a crappy sleeper to begin with; (2) having to cold turkey the swaddle after she started rolling over on to her belly a couple of weeks ago; and (3) the dreaded four-month sleep regression. Perfect storm of shitty-sleep conditions, right there. All we need to do is throw in some teeth! (Oh hell, I hope not. Not any time soon. She can stay gummy until she goes to college.)
Running has taken a back seat while we ride this out. It’s funny – I think I was running more at 6 weeks postpartum than I am at 4 months. After fighting the good fight all day on nap patrol, I don’t have the energy to go run before checking in for the night shift. Like everything else infant-related, I know that this too shall pass, but at the moment I am just exhausted.
I did nearly DNS a 5K last Saturday morning, after being up all night with she-who-must-not-be-named. But then, after I’d texted my running buddy to tell her I was bailing, the preshus awoke again so I made the wise decision to pass her off to my husband and go run since I was going to be up either way. I finished in 26 minutes, which used to be my easy run pace, but that’s neither here nor there because if it hadn’t been for that race, I certainly wouldn’t have run that day. Or really, that entire week.
Fortunately, sleep issues aside, Annika is happy and healthy and it’s amazing to watch her change and grow each day.
And now it’s 9PM. The baby monitor has been all green lights for at least 15 minutes. You know what that means? Time for me to go the fuck to sleep.