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.