Less hopelessness today, though I was hoping to get more done. None of the tasks we planned to do today happened, and it is unlikely they will happen tomorrow either. Feeling unproductive, but balanced against quiet time with S.O. and baby. Feelings of lethargy, self-disgust, and apathy present, but muted. Having actual physical contact with others probably helped.
I find myself, against previous expectations, actually missing the closeness of nursing, but it's probably only because the baby woke up tonight screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason, which he does from time to time. Not only was it easier when I was nursing to put a nipple in his mouth to get him back to sleep so I didn't have to listen to him "cry it out" but I find sometimes I want to cuddle for my own comfort. It's good for the baby, too, but he really isn't much of a cuddler outside of his midnight awakenings.
Writing is making me more self-conscious about my mood, and I find myself thinking ahead: "So what am I going to write about tonight?" Not exactly the purpose of this journal for me to plan out my entry ahead of time, and I have to keep reminding myself of that.
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