I am functioning in a haze. A newborn haze, that is.
Days are not broken into days of the week or even day vs night. My time is divided into 2-3 hour segments. No starting or stopping, just one long continual churning of hours that makes me forget what day it is.
Little baby hands and little baby feet that need to be bundled up. Little tiny baby diapers (with the rather unfortunate 3 year old regressed back to using diapers) thrown in the mix.
Stacking pillows and the ever present boppy on the couch.
Water cups always on the side table.
Lansinoh is making a killing off of me with the disposable nursing pads and cream in constant use.
8 pounds of wiggling, nursing, barracuda mouthed baby.
While I am a big proponent of breastfeeding, and I nursed both my boys till they were at least a year... I really do not liking nursing from day 2 to about the 3rd or 4th week. It is painful. It is tiring. Every baby is different and it takes a few weeks to get a good routine and system down. Baby has to figure it out, momma has to figure it out. After that 3-4th week, everything clicks and it is as easy as pie.
But the constant feedings with no relief puts me in a heavy eyed, glazed over haze.
Than you have this warm, snugly little body that sighs with contentment when you pick them up. They snuggle right down in and go immediately to sleep.
3am comes around (again) and you get a glimpse of a smile, just half of one that hints of things to come. Sure it may have been gas and she was not just happy to get to eat, but you smile and hope to catch another silly little lopsided grin again and you forget that it is 3am (again).
In this haze, you ignore that amount of television your 3 year old has been watching while you are nursing, you become best friends with dry shampoo and you get acquainted with a mulleted man named Macgyver at 5am. You function and you keep moving, because stopping means falling asleep.
And when they grow so fast and this time is so fleeting, you don't want to miss a minute of it.