Ramona had a fine day yesterday. I did not. I saw an episode of Law and Order a while back where someone was in a medically-induced coma. I’m embarassed to admit that I’ve been spending a significant amount of time pondering that prospect. Mainly I’m wondering whether or not that’s ever an elective procedure. Also on my list of feel-good fantasies: What’s the protocol on checking yourself into a mental hospital?

The sleep deprivation and stress has finally got me unhinged. A lot is made over the quirky symptoms women experience during pregnancy, but I rarely hear women discussing the equally exotic symptoms brought on by the zombie schedule a newborn invariably demands. Here are my current faves: Persistent eye twitch. Muscle weakness. Slurred Speech. Bad Dreams. Swearing at Husband. I’m starting to feel like the fine print on one of those flashy designer meds they’re always hawking on TV. You know, “Ask your doctor if Forgetitol is right for you!”

And no sleep makes you a jerk. I said some very mean, bad things to Andy last night. I apologized, we worked it out, but geez was I mad. I finally had a big fat tantrum and went in the bedroom and fell asleep for about 20 minutes. When I woke up I felt better, but not good enough.

I’ve been told I have a funny way of saying things, but a lot of times it’s unintentional. Or it’s a response to stress, as in, “Let’s make this horrible situation more fun by joking around non-stop”. I’ve been told I was a laugh riot during labor, and I can guarantee I was not having fun. So although I may sound “collected” or “together”, I assure you, I am going mental. I have just got to find a way to get more sleep.

The good news is that help is on the way. We will have some help in the evenings next week and my mom is helping this week. Simon will be going for a playdate about once a week to give us some Mommy-Mona time. And my sister is also going to help out on a regular basis.

So for now I am trying just to rest when I can, even if it’s just getting off my feet. I’m trying to eat a little better, having realized that eating is not a reliable sleep substitute. And I’m going to try and keep in mind that “This too shall pass”. That things might get better, they might get worse, but they won’t stay like this forever.

Thanks for listening, Jane.