What do you do when you’re so tired the first response you feel is anger?
What do you do when you give them the very last drops of blood from your scrappy veins and still they assault you for more?
When the only solution to their problem is you?
When no one else will do.
When coffee isn’t touching you anymore.
When it takes too much effort to take a deep breath and stay.
Stay with their unrelentingness.
Their needy eyes which fill with tears because they have the wrong shoes on, the wrong dress on, the wrong day on.
Don’t they know I’ve nothing left?
Don’t they know I don’t care about noisy trucks and red things and where the hell Spot is?
What do you do when you know what will make you better and yet it’s the one thing you’re denied night after so very long night?
It’s not validation I need.
It’s not to feel valuable.
I know the worth of what I do.
I don’t expect grand accolades for performing a job I chose, for children who did not ask to come into this world.
But when friends go home to bed.
When family leave for dinner.
When help flitters away,
And you’re left with your babies,
Pushing through the day and through the night.
Scrapping through it.
Clawing through it.
When one baby spends his night feeding off you and the other calling for you,
What then is me.
Me against myself in the toughest act of endurance I’ll ever know.
Of sheer fight.
What then is me.
And my attitude.
For if I don’t have the strength to take in soft eyelashes, pudgy skin, weighty breaths,
If I don’t have the strength to notice sea blue eyes and the way she kisses me,
To take them both in my arms,
To smell the tops of their heads.
How then, can I possibly endure the rest?