In this together

What did you do last night? I went on a one way trip to the end of my tether. Here's what happened...

3am. My baby has been in her usual sleep/wake cycle for three hours. By "usual sleep/wake cycle", what  mean is that she falls asleep at my breast, but won't be put down into her cot. Seriously, as soon as her back touches the cot, no matter how fast asleep she is, her eyes fly open and she yells. I swear, she's like a cot ninja. She can sense her cot from anywhere, and she Does Not Like It.
So, most of the time, I let her just stay in our bed. That should get me a better sleep, right?
Wrong!
She falls asleep at the breast, then I gently manoeuvre her onto the mattress, and get myself comfy. Then I lie there, listening to her breathing, mentally going through shopping lists, to-do lists, lists of what I did wrong that day and should aim to do better tomorrow, etc. Then, just as I'm drifting off to sleep, she drifts into a lighter sleep, her lips start smacking together, looking for the last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep. The boob isn't there anymore, so she wakes further, looking for it. I wake up, and manoeuvre myself back into a feeding position. Feed, feed, feed for about two minutes, and then she's asleep again. But I'm not. Back to square one.
Anyhoo, lately I've been trying to get her into her own cot for at least some of the night. I can't ever get into a deep sleep when she's next to me, both because I can't get comfy and because I'm paranoid about her getting suffocated by my pillows, duvet or uber soft mattress. So, for the past three hours, I've been in the cycle of boobing, then shuffling to the bottom of the bed with her in my arms (being careful not to wake her), and gently putting her into her cot. More often than not, she wakes as soon as she's put down, but sometimes she'll lull me into a false sense of security, staying asleep until I've got back into bed, and then wailing as soon as she hears me getting comfy.
Tonight, it's the latter. It's 3am, this has been going on since midnight (following an entire evening of her being next to us on the sofa), and I've had enough. I seriously, no exaggeration, haven't slept more than an hour or two in a row, for eight months. I need sleep. I've done so well, getting to eight months, without losing my temper or being grumpy during the day. I stay chirpy and positive, I tell myself that this is a drop in the ocean of my motherhood journey, that these endless nights will soon be a distant memory, but I'm incredibly close to breaking point.
I feel like running up to fresh faced strangers and saying "Did you sleep last night? Did you? I didn't! I never sleep! Sleep is for the weak! Hahahahahaha!!!!" and other such maniacal ramblings.
Anyhoo. Back to 3am. I'm exhausted, and I've just crept back to Amelie's cot for the gazillionth time, and gently placed her down. She stays asleep! Hurrah!
I creep back to bed, and lie down. The tiredness envelops me like thousands of arms, pulling me down, down, down...
"WAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
I take a deep breath, and sigh loudly. I'm done. I am so tired of this constant routine.
I get up and drag myself over to the cot, where my beautiful baby girl is wailing frantically, and waving her arms and legs. I don't feel angry with her. In fact, I don't feel angry at all, just bloody knackered. I know it's not her fault, but we can't go on like this.
We've done what the Baby Whisperer might have patronisingly referred to as "accidental parenting", allowing her to use my boob as a "prop". I'm sorry to say this, but there was nothing "accidental" about it, we knew what we were doing. It's the sleep system I lovingly refer to as "whatever gets you through the night".
Well, it used to get me through the night, but now it totally doesn't. Now I need a different way of getting through the night, preferably with my eyes shut and my body resting.
So, what to do? I decide to go with Operation: Tough Love. Not that I plan on letting her cry it out or anything, I'm more than willing to cuddle her and provide bottles of milk or water, but just no more falling asleep at the boob. I want to teach her that there are other ways to fall asleep.

So, it's 3am. (I'm getting to the point, I swear) She's screaming blue murder, clawing at my top to try and get to the boob. She's not hungry, I know she's not, but I offer a bottle anyway.
She screams louder, shoving the bottle away. I rock her. Screams.
I shush her. Screams. I kiss her, cuddle her, pace up and down with her.
Screams, screams, screams.

What am I doing? Is it SO bad to just give her a boob? What kind of selfish, horrible woman am I to deprive my own child of such basic comfort? What harm would it do to just let her fall asleep at the boob, and repeat the same half hourly cycle as usual?
No. No, no, no. I'm EXHAUSTED. I feel like a speck, like I'm of no importance, like my only point in existing is to provide for everyone else, and leave nothing of myself for me. There is nothing left, I'm like a wrung out washcloth.
I start to cry. Big, heaving sobs matching those of my tiny daughter. I'm useless, worthless and horribly, horribly selfish.
Somehow, from somewhere, I have to find some strength to make this better. It's time to dig deep.
I hold my screaming baby close, whispering "I'm sorry, I love you so much, but no. No boob"
She continues to scream and scream, but I'm determined. We have to break this cycle, I have to get some sleep, and so does she.
I get up, and walk around with her. She stops screaming, distracted by what she sees as we wander the house in the darkness. I whisper how much I love her, and how we'll get through this together, her and me.
I'm not battling against her, I'm battling beside her. We're fighting together, for a solution to this exhausting situation.
I feel a sense of strength from thinking of it this way, it's her and I against the world, and we have the night as our battlefield, and the hearts of a thousand sleep deprived mothers as our army. I know, that out there are countless other parents going through the same battle, and I no longer feel alone. We WILL get through this.

By 5am, I'm starting to feel hungry. 5 hours on the battlefield will do that to a girl. I figure that Amelie might be hungry, too, so I offer her a bottle. She drinks about 2oz and falls into a deep, snoring sleep. I lay her down in the cot, and miraculously, she stays.
Sleep grabs me quickly and drags me under like a serpent, only I don't want to be saved from this one. The next thing I know, it's 8.45am, and I've had 3 3/4 glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep!
It's the longest I've slept in the eight months since she was born, and I feel like a new woman.

Who knows what tonight will bring? We will just have to wait and see, but I know that if my baby girl and I meet on the sleep battlefield again tonight, we'll be on the same side, and I'll be strong enough for the two of us.