Posted on April 18, 2016
Someone said to me – you always find the joy and I wish I could do that. And she looked like she was going to cry and I very nearly cried at the time and reflecting back on it I can’t stop the tears.
I’m crying because I sincerely wish that were true. I’m sitting on the floor of the bathroom writing this. I am beyond exhausted. Today I really and truly feel like I have nothing more to give.
There were so many wake ups last night I just stopped counting. I didn’t sleep at all. There’s nothing poetic or special or honourable in sleep deprivation. It’s just awful.
I feel completely overwhelmed and numb. I am trying to stop the tears before my oldest wakes up so that I don’t alarm him. The last thing he needs is to wake up to me being a mess.
The day lies ahead as if it’s a churning sea. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get through when I feel like I don’t even have a life raft.
But then – I do know I’ve been here before.
I’ve run my fingers along the tiles as I cried.
And then Eddie has climbed onto my lap and kissed my cheeks and said “you tired dear mama? Is okay jus go sleep I watch baby wonnie” and I’ve laughed. And laughing has made him laugh. An unsure chuckle at first and then a huge burst of giggles.
And I’ll squeeze him tight and say do you know how much I love you? And he’ll say 24 because that’s the biggest number he knows.
And then the baby will blow raspberries and we will laugh again.
I’ll stand up. Wash my face. And we will have a good day.
I’ve been here before, and I’m sure you have to. Maybe we do have a life raft and the sea only looks heavy and dark from here. Maybe when we get closer it’s calmer. We will make it ok.
We will find the joy.