DISCLAIMER: I am by no means looking to minimize the job that full-time single parents do by complaining here about my experience this week. Three nights is not a lifetime.
It is three long nights (and days).
The Mr. went on his first business trip this week. He left at 6:45 on Sunday morning and OMG THANK YOU he just landed about 5 minutes ago.
It's not that the Chicklette is a difficult baby -- in fact, she's pretty dang easy -- but her bedtime is, shall we say, variable. Which means that she falls asleep anytime between 6:15 and 11:30. This unpredictability is usually not a big deal to me, since I do the morning shift and the Mr. does the evening. My bedtime is usually 9:30, no matter what.
And actually, she was great this week. Down by 9:30 or 9:45 every night, for the night. But oh, the anxiety. I'm not good at putting her down, and there has been at least one false start each night, rendering me a quivering piece of WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? for at least one chunk of the evening. And then there's the fact that I'm so worried about sleeping through whatever she might need during the night (since there's no backup parent) that my body has woken itself up every. single. hour. for the last 3 nights. And has not really let itself fall back to sleep again.
My milk supply is suffering. I am a snappish, walking zombie at work, which has also chosen this week to completely kick my ass. I had all but forgotten those early days when the sleep deprivation made me crazy....it is an amazing thing, sleep.
I am so looking forward to resuming my regular bedtime tonight, I could cry. And I probably will before the day is out.
And I am so, so thankful that I have a partner to do this child-raising thing with.
p.s. On a more positive note, the Mr. being gone means that I have gotten every single smile, coo, raspberry, and chubby kissy baby cheek all to myself for the last 4 days. I will miss that.