I am tired.
No. Tired is inadequate; exhausted is overused.
Perhaps spent is more appropriate.
Those who know us know our lives are rather… erhm, full. Some seasons, full is oppressive; others, it’s beautiful – satisfying, even.
Last year we lived the first; this year we’ve seen glimpses of the second.
The difference? What we’ve chosen as our… fillers.
Seven years ago this month, I was counting down the weeks till Noelle’s birth, anxious to be delivered of the extra weight, anxious to get my body back.
I was tired of sharing my heart, my blood, my kidneys, my uterus. I was tired of being host to an ever-growing parasite. I wanted my parts back. I wanted to support my own life functions, and not anyone else’s.
I know. The naivete is crushingly hilarious.