I spent last night in a room of sleepless pain, built from walls of screams and wails, from which I emerged with that crazy eyed, sparkly faced, mind numbingly brittle voiced martyrdom of the truly sleep deprived. Bite me and I taste of win, my face shouts to the world. Ask me my name? I’ve no fucking idea.
The newborn refused to settle and cried like a crazed beast, stopping only to sleep for 10 minute intervals, burp like a swearing drunken navvy, or breastfeed like a frenzied piglet. All night. I mean, all fracking night.
My memory shudders at the sound of snorting and fussing and biting and gulping still echoing in my addled brain. Not for my newborns the idyllic mother child bonding experience of breastfeeding, softly suckling like a Mothercare ad, oh no. Like his brother before him he’s a full on fussy squirming biting down sucking machine.