Pickle has slept through for two nights on the trot.
So it turns out I am NOT going completely insane. I am not incapable of having a conversation. I’m not suffering from some cataclysmic hormonal imbalance. I was just really, really tired! Of course I have jolted awake at 6 each morning thinking ‘argh! the baby’s dead!’ and the night before last I dreamt that both children were squealing ‘muuuummmmy’ (even the non-verbal one) as they were carted off by a stranger, but that is a small price to pay.
I think it’s the formula. I’m sure breast is best but blimey it’s been nearly 9 months and I’m knackered. And I’m longing to wear a normal bra again so I will actually have boobs and a waist and not just a sticking-out area between my neck and the tops of my thighs. I’m a little tiny bit sad about saying adieu to breastfeeding (no more childbirth for me, thanks) but – salut sleep! Delicious, silky sleep.
Long may it continue.