I’m writing this at 6am, after one of the hardest nights with Elan that I’ve had in a while.
He nursed through the entire night and eventually woke up fully at 4am — restless and uncomfortable.
After giving him a potty break and a fresh diaper, I lay there in the dark with him on my chest, patting his back and praying that it would be enough. Truth be told, I was a wreck. Dehydrated and empty. The best way to describe this feeling would be that “all of the life got sucked out of me”. The image in my head was of a hollow, lifeless version of myself, aching for nourishment of my own.
I couldn’t nurse him anymore. It was too much.