Sometimes, your body just tells you.
This morning, and the past few mornings, it has been a real struggle to wake up. I am exhausted when I get up, and I really have a hard time shaking off the tiredness. Most mornings, I get up with BDH and while he goes on the treadmill, I make his lunch, get coffee on, and try to wake up. This morning I had to get up early because I had to get the garbage out.
It was hard. I was walking around in a daze. So I decided to forego the coffee, and after BDH’s lunch was packed, and the garbage was out, I told BDH I was going to lie down and rest for a few minutes.
I went upstairs to lie on the daybed. Soon, I was joined by the cats. Downstairs, I could hear the sounds of BDH’s morning routine — shaving, showering, getting ready for work.
I realized I was dozing a bit when BDH came up to say goodbye before he headed off to work. I stumbled downstairs after him, locked the front door, and grabbed a blanket from the linen closet. And I went back up to the daybed.
I crashed. HARD. I slept soundly. I had a lot of dreams. And I forced myself awake because I had no idea what time it was and I had things I wanted to do today.
I had slept for another 2 1/2 hours.
I guess all the stress and activity of the last few weeks is wearing me down a bit. I guess I must have needed the sleep.
Still, I look at BDH who is doing all that I am doing, plus he’s working a full day (sometimes more), and he’s getting up early and working out, and he’s got tons of energy. He’s raring to go. And me, who stays home and takes care of the house and the paperwork? I am still tired. I envy him his energy.
It’s hard to not feel guilty about being at home. It’s hard to not feel like you’re not doing your fair share, especially after working like crazy for the last 15 years. And then to be feeling tired on top of that, when I watch how much my husband does… well, it’s hard not to feel guilty.
I know it’s all part of the plan, so that our Mystery Baby will have a full-time, hands-on parent there for the first formative years when he or she gets here. But that time hasn’t come yet.
Is it the adoption hoop-jumping that’s tiring? The worry? The mental work of paperwork and worrying over budgets and planning? I don’t know.
I just know that you could not have gotten me off that bed today with a stick of dynamite. The University of Moose Jaw Marching Band could have come through here and it would not have woken me.
I crashed. Hard.
I hope I get some energy back soon.