Can't you see I'm blurry? Maybe this blues can wait.

That's a lyric from Night of a Thousand Verses by Semisonic, who coincidentally will be coming up on my playlist soon, as I am in the R's in my continuing quest to listen to my music collection alphabetically.

I'm convinced that 80% of post-partum depression is sleep deprivation, 15% is insecurity, and 7% is resentment. That adds up to 100 after three months without a decent night's sleep. I'm a little prone to suffering from "the baby blues," or post-partum suckitude as I like to call it. I'm a perfectionist with no patience for a learning curve. If the baby is crying, it's something I'm doing wrong. If Paolo is sad because I'm not spending enough time with him, I am failing as a parent. And, of course, there are the countless ways I disappoint my husband. Not only does he have to make up for my shortcomings, he has to put up with my being sad about them. Now how depressing is that? Without enough sleep, I can't see how false and negative this thinking is. It is my reality.

I was barely getting enough sleep during my maternity leave. Now that I have to get up for work and can't nap during the day, I'm down to five interrupted hours of sleep a night. I can't think how to fit in more sleep that doesn't come unfairly at the expense of my family. After his day of caring for both boys, making me lunch on my break, cleaning house, running errands, doing laundry, cooking dinner, putting Paolo to bed and washing my breast pump, I just don't feel right asking Sam to do more. Call me crazy.

I never thought having a baby would be easy, but I didn't realize how hard a second baby would be. As Gianluca gets older, he'll sleep longer at night, so I'll sleep more and be a happier, more productive person. So, little one, not too much longer, okay?