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Death By Boob

These past few days, I’ve been battling a plugged duct and a case of self-diagnosed rotavirus. As I sat on the toilet shitting liquid poop like water from a water gun while breastfeeding my little baby, I contemplated my week and wondered how it had led me to be comfortable to this state of ridiculousness.

This is how my week has looked so far..

Monday – granddaddy doesn’t work. hubby went into work on his day off to put in more hours on account of us not being able to make our payments last month (le sigh).
Woke up feeling feverish.
630AM the older baby his AM bottle and changed his diaper, and gave the little baby to the parents so I could nap in a little while longer
830AM little baby was brought up to me on account of needing to be fed. grandmommy tells me big baby only got half a banana and had one container of Danimal (he normally gets a waffle and a full banana for breakfast). I ask her to give him a bottle and to put him into bed for his AM nap since he was signing that he was tired
[[AM nap for babies and me while daddy and grandmommy goes to work]]
11AM woke up in a cold sweat with little baby climbing all over me. fed little baby. changed little baby’s diaper. brought little baby down to living room very slowly since I’m dizzy when I stand. went up and changed big baby’s diaper on account of him yelling and making his awoken slumber aware. brought big baby down. let them play around in the living room for a little while while I sat on the couch sweating bullets and freezing my ass off.
12PM big baby signs he’s hungry. fix him a pb sammich and banana. little one is whining and wants to be held. I put on Paw Patrol while I hold little baby and big baby eats.
1230PM big baby is done and needs to be washed and changed and played with. I can’t function at this point. I’m dizzy, sweating, can’t catch my breathe when I stand. I ask the granddaddy to help and take over and play with babies while I try to nap it off.
1PM granddaddy calls me from downstairs asking me to come down
130PM granddaddy calls me again
2PM granddaddy calls me again. I go down and scream that all I asked was for a little time so I can recover. I’m freezing, dripping sweat like I had a fake hose stuffed up my shirt and had it rain on my head, exhausted, frustrated. he takes one look at me and goes downstairs to his room. I feed little baby. I try to play with babies, but realize immediately that I should not and cannot be around them in my state. I scream at him to come upstairs and relieve me. I begin to hyperventilate under the anxiety that I can’t even function as a mommy right now. hands begin to cramp due to lack of O2. I freak out knowing this is a very very very bad move. I lie down on the floor to calm down. I eventually make it up the stairs back into bed. I call hubby and see if he can come home a little early from work on account of me being under the weather. I sink into darkness and thank the sweet Lord for having help even if it was forced
4PM hubby comes home and hands little baby to me telling me he thinks he’s hungry. I feed little baby and tell hubby that big baby can nap
6PM little baby wakes. I ask hubby to take him and check diaper and to take him downstairs.
[[From here on out, it was a blur. Everything from that night was a blur. All I know is that the hubby brought the little baby to me when he was hungry and sleepy and little baby napped with me. I wrapped myself in two thick blankets and sweat my life away. I woke up every 30 minutes to make sure I wasn’t smothering little baby who cosleeps with us. I think I went downstairs for a little bit when the grandmommy came home and went right back up to sleep. Poor hubby took care of so much that night. He came up to sleep sometime when I was passed out.]]
Fed little baby a few times throughout the night, but didn’t check on big baby until the next morning on account of me not feeling stupid dizzy from standing to walk a few steps to the bathroom. I didn’t wanna risk going in and collapsing in the middle of the night.

Tuesday – granddaddy went to work around 11AM. nobody else was home.
I wasn’t as dizzy this day. I was able to go downstairs without feeling like I was going to collapse. Grandparents were able to take care of babies in the AM until their AM nap. I was able to take care of babies until hubby came home. Just very, very slowly. I had an utter breakdown that evening because little baby WOULD. NOT. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. He just whined and whined and whined and whined. I began crying and sobbing hysterically to the point where I think my mother called the hubby to tell him to come help me. LULZ. The sheer embarrassment where I could not even handle myself.

Wednesday – granddaddy doesn’t work
I feel a bit better, just stomach cramps and lots and lots of runny poop. Still only at 85%. I had a meltdown at night because hubs brought up a half sleepy baby who just wanted to roll around and head butt my face and sore body. BUT I fell asleep at sometime and apparently little baby eventually fell asleep next to me. This terrified me because he could have easily fallen off the bed and I would not have been the wiser. I was that exhausted. I couldn’t believe I could have actually fallen asleep before little baby. I made the decision that if I ever feel that exhausted again, I will alert hubby so he can watch baby or let little baby cry it out in his crib as to not endanger him ever again.

Thursday – Everyone works.
I survived. I feel better. It’s the evening now. I think I’m at a good 90%. I’ve been so, so angry these past few days. I have been screaming at the babies, cursing at the world, and just been all around a complete and utter bitch. My poor hubby and my poor parents have had to endure my complete breakdown these past few days.

Writing this has taken me decades it seems. It’s most definitely now bedtime. I don’t think I’ve had a coherent thought since my first pregnancy. My brain jumps from one thing to another. I don’t think I’ve ever had one string of thought that made sense. Even speaking to my friends, I know I don’t make sense sometimes. I start by talking about one thing then end with a completely different topic.

Anyhoo, I don’t remember what this whole rant was about. All I know is that I have been the worst mother and worst daughter and worst wife in these past few days I have ever thought I could be. And I wish I could take it all back. I wish I was a better person. I wish I was a better person under pressure. I wish I was a better mother. I saw the look on my little baby’s face when I yelled at him these past few days. He was so confused and upset. I saw the confusion on the big baby’s face when I yelled at him for communicating with me. They don’t know better, but I do. I was awful. Truly awful. I need to learn to be a better person.

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