I Am Tired.

I am pretty certain that I am nearly exhausted. For the past two weeks I have had a cold, had to walk out the basement door for fear of falling on the inch of ice on our steps, and have not slept soundly or waked up happy in days and days and days. I screamed and cried last night like a baby. I gave into it. I gave up.

I feel like I'm failing. I feel like I can't keep up. And although we did a lot this weekend, I couldn't help but make the decision to carry on with the list yesterday and take President's Day off, thinking I'd get so much done and everything would be perfect. Nothing is perfect. Nothing is done.

I want so much for all the things... all the things... to just go away. I want an extreme purging. I want someone to come in and deep clean my home and rid it of all unnecessary things - everyone else's things. The clothes, the bulk supplies, the collections, the garbage. I want floors scrubbed and walls cleaned, blinds soaked and curtains hung. I cannot nest, my nest is filthy. ...And no one seems to understand this. How painful and disconcerting this is for me. Or that I can't do it myself. I can hardly bend over anymore. And when I do, I hurt for it later.

Baby - you are five months pregnant. Baby - you are in for something life altering. Baby - you are GREAT with child, happier and healthier than you have been in years. Not smoking, not drinking, not eating the junk, not giving in to the pressures, standing up to the responsibilities. Baby - you are doing okay.

And yet I just want to crawl into bed naked and wait it out until Spring. The snow is finally melting, at least there's that. Watching and feeling my body morph is strangely daunting and confusing and heart wrenching. I feel him stir, I feel him move my insides around. Elliot, you are part of me. What is this going to do to me when we meet him? Kale says I will be forever changed... these changings are pulling me down inside. I'm confused.

And I'm tired. I long for evenings when both of us pick the kids up, when he helps make dinner and we get into some kind of routine that makes the days seem like manageable, tangible things that make sense to me, but it is Session. All hail the infamous Session and what it does to us. Thank God that Trent and Anna are here now and graciously picking him up and bringing him home on those nights when I have the kids on my own. And in hindsight, my beautiful children just want to cuddle with me on the couch and keep me warm while I fall asleep. They take their plates to the kitchen and set out the pickle jar for me to open. They are gracious with me, they are wonderful. I have nothing to worry about.

Elliot. I don't know where you are going to sleep or where you are going to play. Our house seems too full already - full of things that had filled your place and kept you from coming. Now you are on your way and I don't know where to put you. In a tank like the lizard and the turtle? They seem like the happiest at home, though that lizard has been hiding. Zelda chews her hair off and won't stop shaking her head. Lynden grows extra skin on his scalp and Vivi can't wipe her butt. We're just a bunch of animals, Elliot. Will you be better than we are from the get-go? Will you know how to do this better than we do? I'm ready to meet you, yet you are far from coming home yet. I'll carry you with me and you'll get to know my fears so well. Too well, I'm afraid. I feel like the best thing I can do for you is sing. But lately I've got no songs... I'm too tired and worried.