I’m exhausted. Plain and simple. I’m just leaving the first trimester and, well, it has kicked my butt.
This has to end, right?
I keep waiting for the day when I wake up and don’t feel like I’ve been running in my sleep. I long for the afternoon where I don’t drag myself into the house wondering how I will function to make dinner, when all I really want is a nap. I sleep a lot whenever I can. However, that doesn’t seem to be happening at night. My insomnia is back–lovely.
Sometimes, I arrive at work, and I’m not even really sure how I got there. How did my eyes stay open? How did my body not slump in the seat?
As a result, I’m trying to make up the sleep on the weekends, but with kids, a life and things to do, I just then feel lazy.
However, as I spend time complaining about how tired I am, I think of people who have it so much worse than I do. Or the fact that this is only the beginning. I have a long two-thirds of the pregnancy left to go and then, of course, there is the newborn phase. Plus, I can’t tell you how much it bothers me when people complain about being pregnant on Facebook. Don’t like it? Don’t do it.
I could be like Kate Middleton or a friend from elementary school, one of whom is hooked up to an IV 20 hours a day just to get nutrition. My lack of motivation could be replaced by bleeding or cramping or other complications. A little exhaustion isn’t that bad, is it?
I just have to keep reminding myself of those points. I need to try and explain to my exhausted self that if I just keep swimming, just keep moving, just keep living each day, eventually this will pay off in the form of a little baby.