Tired. Weary. Fatigue. Sleep-deprived.
They all describe the state that I am in. And The Husband too.
Everyday, by the time after we finish our dinner, I feel like we are running on back-up battery. Or in the world of iPhones, we would be running on the last 20% of our batteries where the battery icon the phone turns red.
On some worse off days, like today, I am already on my last 20% by 5ish in the evening. After dinner, I am left with my final 10%. Right now, I can easily nod off if I get a minute of solitude. Yet, I am not going to bed. Gonna wait up to do a last round of milk expressing at 11:45pm before I call it a night. Then, my new day starts three hours later at 2:45am.
So yeah, we are really exhausted. Pooped. Tired out. But it is good. This is a happy kind of exhaustion. A willing kind of sleep deprivation. A blissful kind of tiredness. A counting-my-blessings kind of weariness. A contented kind of fatigue.
All because of this thing called love. Praise God.