I’m tired. So so very tired.
Being a wife and a mother. It’s a journey I never thought I’d find myself on. Yet, here I am- and it’s wonderful. It truly is.
My husband and my son, they’re honestly my entire world.
But I’m tired.
My days feel like they’re all molding into one. I don’t know what day of the week it is. I barely know what month it is. All I know is that I look after my baby, I stress about money, I eat my feelings and I’m f*cking tired.
I wake up feeling as though I haven’t slept. Mentally and emotionally I am exhausted. Physically I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. But I don’t have time to rest. I have a family to look after.
At 8 months old TinyHuman is draining. He is so much fun, honestly this is my favourite stage of his life so far. Everything is so exciting and so funny, every minute of everyday is playtime. Except, those evil teefers are making one hell of an entrance (and by that I mean- three simultaneous entrances, two bottom teeth and one top one have broken through his gums so far!).
He requires attention, every waking moment. Whether it’s playtime or cuddles, he needs me. Of course, I oblige. He’s a baby, he’s learning all about this new and exciting world and he wants Mummy to be with him every step of the way. How could I ever deny him that?
For the past few nights, about an hour after his bedtime, TinyHuman has woken up screaming bloody murder, not a little baby scream. A full on tears streaming down his little face scream. It shatters my heart everytime.
So even when he goes to bed, after the past few nights I find myself waiting for that moment. Making sure I’m available to rush in and comfort him when his world feels like it’s ending.
I’m so tired.
But if there is one thing that makes me feel better, in those moments that just opening my eyes is painful and difficult… it’s my new favourite thing:
We turn our entire lounge into a playground, it’s covered in blankets and pillows. There’s toys strewn about the place, without a care in the world. We’ve got Disney songs blasting and we’re just dancing around, singing, and playing. TinyHuman is laughing hysterically as his Daddy is making silly noises and playing peek-a-boo. Nothing makes me happier.
In those moments it’s so easy to forget how tired I am, but then at the drop of a hat- it changes. His teeth hurt, but there’s nothing I can do.
“Hey Google, what time is the baby due more calpol?” -Sometime after never. Sh*t. Not yet.
TinyHuman is crying. There is nothing I can do. I just want to take away all of his pain, but I can’t. But I’m so tired that his cries bring me my own kind of pain.
With each cry it feels like he may as well be taking a knife to my brain. It’s piercing. Except it’s not. The Husband doesn’t hear it like I do, Meemaw and Grandpa don’t hear it like I do. No one else does.
It’s a cry that only a Mother truly and actually hears. But in that moment, when I’m too tired to rationalise that I am already doing all that I can: I feel useless. That’s what hurts. That’s what pierces me like a knife. The feeling of hopelessness.
I need a rest.
I need to sleep, but the kind of sleep where you wake up and you actually feel refreshed. You know, the kind of sleep that a parent never really gets. I need a break. I need a moment in my life where I don’t have to prioritise everyone else. Where I can put myself first.
But the thing is…
That’s not me. Emotionally, I am selfish. Mentally, I really want to be. But I just can’t bring myself to actually be selfish. TinyHuman and The Husband- they’re my world and will continue to be the centre of my universe.
I might be tired, but even tired I’ll continue my orbit around them both. Each day I’ll get up, still tired and push myself as I do everyday to be the best Mother and Wife that I can be.
