It's just before two in the morning. Elizabeth has been crying since about quarter to twelve. So far I'm held, cuddled, lain with, given paninkillers, nursed, checked her diaper, and cuddled. It has not worked. Well, it has, sort of- she'll mostly quiet down in my arms, but she keeps breathing tensely and twitches a lot. So I'm down here on the computer, listening to her shriek. Nat had nightmares from ten to about three or four last night, and I don't know if Elizabeth is going to sleep before three. Geoff gets up at five.
I am full of self-pity and frustration. In order to be civil to the boys, and to get anything done, I need to sleep. In order to concentrate enough not to completely resent the housework and the demands for attention, I need to sleep. I've gotten one or possibly two good nights (not woken between ten and four) in the last ten days.