Anothe* day

I could feel me loosening the grip a little today. Note that. Not losing. Loosening. Just a little.
It’s like every day is either a firm hold or just an ever so slight relaxing of the grip.
I suspect this will be my normality for quite a few months to come.
Mum commented tonight that all Grover seems to do is feed. “He feeds an awful lot Kimmy, but he goes longer over night doesn’t he.”
Incorrect assumption, miss a turn, straight to jail.
The Grovemeister feeds every three hours. And overnight it is every two. There’s been two 5 hour stints, but they’ve started at around 7pm so sorry, they haven’t saved me any sleep so they don’t count.
His feeding is very like what Felix’s was, but a bit better (because I’m more cluey to his games I suspect), fast, furious, frequent.
He wakes screaming for it, voraciously gulps it down, then grumbles through the processing stage. By which time he’s screaming for more.
It was Surfing Free who mentioned her love hate relationship with breast feeding her newest and third family member. At the time I didn’t get it. Now I totally do.
I know I will persevere with it. I am, afterall, the type of creature who expressed breastmilk, 20 minutes each breast, every three hours for almost three months when we had Oscar.
That’s right. My children’s blind dumb stubborness is firmly from their mother’s side.
But I’m like – kid, work it out. Both sides, 10-15 minutes each, every four hours. It’s so much more civilised than this crazy 10-20 minutes, one side, every 2.5-3 hours. I know that sounds ridiculous because as I typed it I was telling myself to get over it, but there you have it.
So the tiredness doesn’t really abate because I’m not getting more than about 1.5 hours sleep at a stretch.
This is taxing.
But then there are these very small fleeting moments when I feel myself relaxing.
And I know, the passage of time is in progress.
And any day soon, I will be mourning the passing of these first few weeks with our youngest child as if it was a time of wide-eyed wonder and happiness as opposed to chronic sleep deprivation, sore tits, bleeding bits and an uneasy sense of free-falling to nowhere.

* ah yes, so relaxed I can leave this typo alone.