It's infinitely easier the second time. Having a baby, I mean. Okay, maybe not the actual "having" part, but certainly all the rest - the constant feedings, the numerous changings, the endless sleepless nights.
Or so I thought.
It took a few weeks for the sleep deprivation to set in, but it finally has. Yes, Miles regularly does four to five hours in a row at night. But he also regularly wakes every one and a half to two hours at night.
Yeah, he's finally stopped pooping 15 times a day, but now the poop is much more likely to creep up the back of his diapers requiring a full outfit change.
And the nursing. It is going great, really. He has a great latch, except at night when we are both exhausted and he just can't seem to find the sweet spot. And my supply is abundant. In fact, it is over abundant. If I'm nursing on one breast I'm leaking hopelessly from the other, leaving me covered in sticky breast milk and smelling sour by the end of the day.
My Oscar is sweet, but so needy right now and he needs so much more than I have to give. He gets frustrated with me when I can't play blocks while I'm breastfeeding, or read him a book while I'm changing a diaper, or chase him around while I'm holding Miles. He does not want to take naps; he wants every moment with me. The urgency of his need is overwhelming me and making me feel like I'm a failure.
I'm just so tired. Even the nights when I get a good five hours I'm still exhausted. I try to close my eyes, but the second I do, someone is crying, someone is calling me, someone is hungry, someone is lonely, someone needs a hug, someone needs a diaper.