All I want is sleep. But I must finish feeding the baby. Then burping the baby. Baby writhes and wimpers. Try the pacifier--no dice. My pillow calls to me; I'm falling over with exhaustion, but I'm prevented by a tiny little tummy full of agony. She's only happy when completely upright. Envision a contraption that would keep her upright that would not require me to be upright as well.
Burping, burping, still burping. Her body is stiff; she wails when I set her down. Shhh, shhh, sorry baby. Back up again. Pacing, and walking, and I am so very tired. Finally, I can't help myself. I fold that tense tummy into the swing, whispering apologies, and I collapse onto the sofa. She cries--then, we both fall asleep. There's a lesson in there somewhere. . . .