A blank screen. I’ve been staring at one for two weeks. How is one supposed to be funny whilst in the midst of severe sleep deprivation? I now understand why it’s used as a torture tactic. And I now refer to my daughter as my little CIA Operative. She’s the worst. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her to death. And I’m confident that I’ll actually like her someday too. But for now? She’s insomnia personified. And I am not amused.
You see, Blake’s issues with acid reflux crept up on us slowly. Despite vomiting in a way that would make any staunch bulimic proud, newborn Blake was still retaining enough breast milk to satiate her. But growth and maturity have done us no favors, and now — now she’s perpetually hungry and wakes frequently to let us know as much. And when she’s awake, she’s not exactly a treat to be around either, which wasn’t always the case. In the beginning, she was what doctors refer to as a “happy spitter,” which is exactly what you want to hear, unless you’re one of her future boyfriends. But her reflux has since worsened, and now at its peak, she’s constantly exhibiting signs of discomfort. Unless I’m holding her in a perfectly upright position, she writhes in pain and cries incessantly. And that’s with the assistance of medication, which we held off on for as long as possible, but finally had to start administering this past week. Needless to say, it’s fun times at the Sullivan residence these days.