I still worry about Sean taking care of them. Not because I don't think he's able, he is an incredible father, but because he is not their mother. He hasn't been with them around the clock since they were born like I have. I slept in the same bed with Dylan until he was 15 months old. I know which way to lay Katie down if she has gas, and how to touch Dylan on the face when he wakes up in the morning to make him smile. He doesn't yet know Katie signals and is not able to distinguish what she wants at all times. This morning I took a shower while Katie was still asleep, and came down to find her crying in her swing as Sean sat on the couch next to her. I asked him if he had fed her and he said he didn't realize she was hungry. But there are times when I cannot soothe the baby and Sean immediately picks her up and she is calm. The blame here is me. I neurotically try to meet their needs before they need to be met and my mind never shuts that off. If Katie so much as rolls over in her crib, I am awake and checking on her. The issue here is not whether or not they will be taken care of, the issue is that they'll be taken care of by someone other than me.
I worried this way when I was in the hospital for four days undergoing my thyroidectomy, too. But Sean was nothing but wonderful with Dylan and my heart warmed to see him on video chat so happy with daddy.
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I'm mentally getting worse as these days without synthetic thyroid wear on. I yelled at Dylan earlier when he was rough housing the DVD player and he walked right up to me and said, "Stop being so mean, Mama."
The baby was inconsolable a few minutes ago and as soon as I finally got her to sleep the dog barked and I broke down sobbing. Every little thing has me either enraged or in tears. I'm still feeling desperate. Still feel like I'm starving.
Today I've eaten some pasta salad. That's it. It's 5PM. And all I've eaten is pasta salad. Thank God for Sean because I know I can't do this alone any longer.
