I find myself, frustratingly, in that place again. I am the sort of tired where having to get up makes me want to whimper and cry. I'm tired, just let me sleep, I'm too tired.
I don't like being in this place. I don't like being this person.
I can't even pin it on the baby; sweet girl sleeps well at night, most of the time. No, it's just an utter bone-deep exhaustion. It makes everything feel infinitely more difficult. Pain in the blessing and all that.
Worse, the children have eaten my brain. I was intelligent once, as I recall. Now I walk into a room and forget what I needed. I think of something and it escapes me just as quickly. I stand up to change the baby's diaper and find myself, a few minutes later, folding laundry. How did this happen? I was on my way to fetch a clean diaper. Why am I folding laundry?
I don't know.
It's frustrating, this brain fog, and only compounds the challenges of exhaustion. Nothing is clear, nothing seems easy.
Then I hear the baby's cry. Sweet girl has woken up. I go to her, pick her up, kiss the top of her fuzzy head, witness her wide toothless smile...and suddenly everything is clear. This warm baby in my arms, that sweet toddler on the couch, that beautifully creative boy painting pictures at the table, they are all so very worth this. I may have misplaced my brain right along with my ability to stay awake through an entire day, but I get them instead.
Worthwhile trade, if you ask me.
Yet still, I know this isn't a good place to stay in. I know my body, and it has spent these past couple of weeks telling me, loudly, that it needs care too. I am working on things, finding ways to get rest, to nourish my body, to supplement where needed, to ask for help, oh why is that always the hardest? But necessary, I remind myself.
Here's to hoping I will soon return to the post-children normal of only being moderately exhausted and brainless, instead of completely.