Sometimes this shit is hard work

I’m so tired and sore and frustrated and alone and I just want to run away and hide somewhere and just.. Just be.
Has anyone ever get like that?
I have. I felt like that recently when I was on holiday and Nives wasn’t sleeping and she was constantly feeding or grabbing me and I just thought: enough.
I was tired and alone and I reached out to people to ask for help, tentatively created conversations in my mind whereby I admit to wanting to stop feeding her, needed my sleep, needed a barrier.
No one came.
I gave up breastfeeding shortly after. What I know now is that the crying and the even less sleep and the constant feeding were just a phase, she’s out of it now. And meanwhile I have lumpy sore boobs and I could have just carried on.
What I also know is that there’s literally no advice for stopping breastfeeding and what to expect out there and there’s not much support AT ALL.
Kind of like being a new mum and when they don’t tell you about any of the actual useful stuff at NCT like: how to survive on ten minutes sleep, how it will hurt to go to the loo for like, a loooong time, how your boobs will just become, like, your enemy. How you will feel so overwhelmed.
Oh and the sex thing. I knew - I think everyone knows - that after six weeks you are apparently ok to have sex. This is weird to me because firstly, everyone’s birth is different. And if your baby isn’t sleeping and you are only just getting your boobs to sort of do what you want and your stomach is like a big flappy doughnut… I just think that sex is like, kind of low down on the list of priorities.
But people without babies are like, obsessed with when you are going to have sex. A friend of mine even asked if I had a “vanity stitch” put in! Actually asked that. She said that her brother’s doctor had winked at him after his wife had gone through labour and said “I’ve sorted her out for you” or some shit. I don’t believe this is true in the slightest and I’m really fucking angry that this guy is walking around telling people this story about his wife. But, I digress.
Anyway, what I wanted to say is that sometimes there are just times like that. Where parenting and mothering and actually wife-ing (this is now a verb, just accept it, don’t argue with The Tired One) can just wear you down and you want to read a book, have a cup of tea, without someone asking if the rubbish has been taken out; if you’ve spoken to the plasterer; if you know where this thing is, or that thing. Or have someone on your lap tugging at your top, wailing in your ear; mammmmmmy mammmmmy.
It’s the lack of sleep I think. It’s the early starts that wear you down, I remember nights where I would be constantly traipsing between my bed and her nursery, tipping myself into her cot, stretching out on the floor, singing twinkle twinkle little fucking star until I was hoarse.
Not that she sleeps *that* well now, mind you.
I’m writing this because I want to get it out. I want to say: I’ve been there, I know. I want to say it to the new mums who are just like OH MY DEAR GOD WHY WON’T YOU SLEEP and then they don’t and they don’t and they don’t. Nives is 18 months old. It’s 9.20, she’s gone down for a nap after getting up for the day at 4. I should be sleeping with her. I’m writing this because I’m carrying it in me and I want to say, I get it.
And sometimes it is ok to just want to run out the door and not look back.