We got home from the hospital yesterday around 4pm. The kids met their new baby brother and opened their “big brother” gifts and had were very excited about the whole thing.
After they went to bed, reality sink in and I kind of started to panic and get some really bad anxiety. Looking over at this brand new baby who I was sure was going to keep me awake all night gave me such a sense of panic and doom.
Like, what have I gotten myself into, will it ever be okay again? Will I ever sleep again, or have time to eat or shower or have a thought to myself?
It got overwhelming very quickly.
The night was extremely rough. He slept for maybe 2 hours in the beginning, woke up at midnight, and then stayed awake until nearly 4am. Ugh.
Certainly not your ideal first night home. It was about as bad as I was fearing. I got just about no sleep, haven’t really eaten, and am overall just not feeling great.
I’m so glad that he’s here, and I love him so incredibly much. I feel okay (other than tired) during the day, but as soon as the evening hours come around, this panic sets in and I start getting anxiety about what the night will bring.
I know it won’t be like this (sleepless) forever, but in the meantime, it’s really fucking hard. Especially when my other 2 boys really don’t give a shit about how I’m feeling (naturally) and still have their own needs and demands.
It’s going to be a bit of a tough transition for all of us, I think. I’m grateful for my husband being home and helping out as much as he can.
Both the physical and the emotional recovery are going to take some time, and I guess that’s just part of the process.
In the meantime, I’m going to try to soak up the cuddles and enjoy the quiet moments whenever they happen to pop up.
It does go quickly, I know that. And even though anxiety is present and fierce, I know this is a time in my life I’ll never get back. And I need to keep that in perspective, too.