This is my new word.  For the first two weeks of Ellie’s little life, I was way too paranoid to be tired.  I was a robot.  The shock of walking out the hospital with a brand-new human being that doesn’t come with her own nurse or instruction manual had me wired for at least fourteen days.  I was so over-tired I was running on fumes.  But the last few days, the vice around my chest has loosened a bit.  I don’t imagine trips to the emergency room every time she makes a noise that I haven’t heard before.  I don’t call the doctor when she sleeps through her scheduled eating time- my schedule, not hers.  I even took her to church yesterday and didn’t blanch when someone asked if they could hold her.  You would think all of this progress would mean a revival of sorts.  Let me tell you, after all of my tense, high-alert energy has been spent, I am so tired I can hardly stand it.  I am sleeping three hours at at a time at night (which is a huge improvement, believe it or not) and I even napped this morning.  I am so tired I watched High School Musical 3 with my sister this afternoon.  Insane.  Here’s the clincher- I am so tired, I would rather sleep than eat AT ALL.  I have officially scared you now.  I have never in my life been too tired to eat.

So, here I am, exhaustified.  Ellie doesn’t really seem to notice, however.  She’s gently sleeping, secretly laughing at her Mama.  She’s not tired.


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