Not a good first post, but a true one

There are lots of posts of sunshine and light to come. There are posts of my elation at Ada's birth, my happiness with how Ada and Ellie's first meeting went, my gratitude at how my youngest sister drove over from two states away and missed three days of work to stay with Ellie while I was in the hospital, so that Ellie got to feel like she was getting a special treat rather than being abandoned.

This isn't one of those posts. This is a 4:00 am post on our first night home all together. It's a post of extreme frustration.

I really really really didn't want to bungle this. I am still jealous of my middle sister, due in part, I'm sure, to how hard it was for my mom after MiddleSis was born. I'm sure that I got shorted, and I know that I've never quite gotten over it.

I made sure that Ellie had a cool big girl room and plenty of time to transition out of the nursery well before Ada was born. I made sure that Ellie had room to regress, to be held like a baby as much as she wanted, to crawl, to play with bottles, to avoid the potty, whatever. I was supportive; I didn't want her to feel like she couldn't do something she wanted to do just because of the new baby. I've never told Ellie that she has to be a big girl now because a new baby is coming, or anything like that.

I am not frustrated with Ada for not sleeping tonight. She is a newborn, as yet unclear on the concepts of night and day, and everything is brand-new.

I understand that Ellie is excited to have her daddy and me at home again, that she's excited to have the baby here, that she has a cold, that it's hard for her to sleep too. But she does know better; she does understand that it's nighttime and she should be sleeping.

So of course Paul and I are both up, trading turns with both girls, and we're both exhausted. Ellie's cold is driving me crazy. I can't keep her away from the baby entirely, and I'm not trying to do so because I don't want her to develop unnecessary resentment. But it's so hard for me to not freak out about those germs around the new baby. And, more selfishly, it's so hard for me to sit endlessly in Ellie's room when she's snotty and snuffly despite the Tylenol Cold - I have always hated hearing her struggle to breathe - and grinding grinding grinding her teeth.

And every moment, Ellie's inevitable dawn awakening grows ever nearer as my window for recovery in sleep closes further.

There are lots of great friends around here who have offered to help, to keep Ellie for us. That's very generous, but it won't work because Ellie wants to be here with her mom and dad. I think it would do irreparable harm to send her away on the first nights that the new baby is home.

What she needs - what we all need - is family here to help out so that we can take shifts and one adult can be sleeping at all times.

Because, you know what? I feel bad. I feel like I'm about 2 days post-partum. I feel squishy and squooshy in the middle, I feel sore on the bottom, I feel exhausted. My nipples are killing me (yes, yes, I'm wearing a good bra and plenty of lanolin; breast pain is just a natural part of the beginning of breastfeeding a new baby, especially one who loves to nurse and has a very strong suck). The afterbirth cramps really are much stronger with subsequent childbirth experiences.

My mother-in-law kindly offered to come help. And I gratefully accepted her offer, but requested that she come in a couple of weeks, when Paul goes back to the office and I'm trying to handle both kids alone during the day and take on more of the night shifts since he'll be having to be at work all day. I still think I'll really appreciate the help then. But I could use some help now, too.

You know, I don't begrudge MiddleSis the right to have family around her for the birth of her first baby. She had a traumatic experience with labor and delivery yesterday - more on that later. But this is her first child, meaning that she has a husband with whom she can trade off as necessary and no other children to tend. And his family lives nearby. And both of my parents are up there with them, even though they're still in the hospital and we're struggling through our first night at home.

I want to go back to the hospital. I want to say, hey, I've nursed this baby for 3 hours straight, I've made meaningful eye contact, I've sung to her and told her how much I love her. Now it's time for a kindly nurse to rock her in the nursery for a few hours so that I can sleep and Paul can be home with Ellie. 2 nights in the hospital weren't enough. Not nearly enough.

Having my mother here for well under 24 hours culminating immediately after I gave birth - before I'd even moved out of the recovery room! - was not nearly enough. It just sucks. And I'm tired and I feel bad.

But now I think Paul's gotten Ellie to sleep, at least for a little while, and he's walking Ada around the house, swinging her in her car seat, and she's quiet. I think I'll try to get some rest, now that I've vented some of my frustration here.