Simon lay beside me in the starfish position snoring and breathing in my face. I could feel the rage building. How the hell was he able to sleep through this?
I eventually gave in and brought Rory in to bed with us at 5am. Giving him a feed lying down to try and get him back to sleep. It wasn’t working.
I got up and we tried to get on with the day. I was seriously struggling. When I have a significant lack of sleep I really struggle to cope. It feels like a physical knot in my stomach which makes me feel sick. I also veer between rage and crying. So when Simon suggested a quick trip to the shops in Glasgow, I should have said no. I didn’t.
We headed to John Lewis. I wanted to look at highchairs. I’d researched every blooming highchair their was and still couldn’t decide what one was best. “I like this one. What do you think?” I asked Simon. Now, whatever he had said at this point would have probably been wrong as I could feel my rage simmering away, but I still didn’t expect the response I got. “Does he really need a highchair? “What?”I asked Simon. “Well I mean. Is it an ESSENTIAL?”. That was it. “What the hell is wrong with you? Of COURSE he needs a high chair!” I screamed. “Would you like our son to roam around the floor like a DOG????” I then marched off with Rory in the pram and burst into tears. Sometimes you just get days when it all gets a bit much. Today was one of them.