All I want for Christmas is some sleep.

It’s Christmas Day, Tiny T is Six weeks old and I’m struggling. It’s an awful thing to write but I’m not enjoying this experience. Tiny T is a colicky child and as a result, he screams. Fuck me does he scream. He looks to be in pain when he’s feeding. He’s on lactase drops, Infacol, Gripe water and now the GP has prescribed Gaviscon Infant. The health visitors keep saying not to use everything at once as we wont know what works, but there visits are fleeting. Sometimes not at all, just a phone call. They’re not here 24/7, eight feeds a day. They don’t have to sit and try to feed a baby who is hungry yet shouts in pain when he’s feeding. And there is nothing you can do about it. You feels both useless and and frustrated. You want to shout back at him and scream for an answer, but you can’t. It’s not his fault. So you just stand there, helpless and enraged.

I’ve not written in a while. I’m exhausted with the broken sleep and long days at work. It’s difficult to concentrate when you feel like this. It’s difficult to describe, something like a semi-insomniac zombie with a drink free hangover. The thick fog inhibits your brain from competent function, you’re strangled of free thought thus you become incapable of doing anything beyond essential tasks. You move from one to the other in a blurred haze, hating yourself, whilst being screamed at by a unsoothable soul.

I had a pretty dark day yesterday and was generally just a grump. I lost my temper over a coffee which wasn’t ordered. We’re were out in the park and Baby T started booting off because he was hungry but again, towards the end of his feed and for a long while after was arching his back in pain and could not be settled. He’s been slightly better with the Gaviscon Infant powder but it’s by far no miracle sure. We made the emergency dash for home and Sal and I fell out for a few hours. I think I almost felt suicidal. That yearn for peace. For everything to be just done. Finished. For the first time in my life I could see why people take their own lives. I should probably add I’m still pretty low in mood but I’ve no intention. I did write some fatalistic guff yesterday which would have had the Crisis team knocking on my door. I think it helped to get it out. I also thinking reading about other new fathers who really struggled has helped. I only seem to interact with my son when he’s sleeping or booting off and I’m really struggling to form a bond with him. The silver lining is that it’s not just me, I’m not alone and it’s not forever. He will grow out of it I’m told.

I had been joking that I couldn’t for him to get himself out of bed and make his own breakfast. Now, I just hope this ends soon and I can actually spend some time with him when he’s both alert and content.

Anyway, I’m in the middle of making the Christmas Dinner. Covid stopped Sal’s parents flying in on the 21st so it’s just the four of us. We’ll have a lot of leftovers. The dog is the only one happy about this.

Merry Christmas