I’m tired. I’m physically tired for sure. Who wouldn’t be after 4 full-term pregnancies, 2 miscarriages, and 6 months into another pregnancy - in less than nine years? But I am also tired in non-physical ways.

Emotionally I feel drained. Please don’t need a lot from me now anyone. I need to find some breathing room. I am tired of being the one to do the “right” thing in every situation I find myself in. I’m weary of working through forgiveness. I am weak from caring for everyone else’s feelings when I’m walking through difficult stages of relationship with them. Not ever feeling like I can say what I really feel, or want, or hope. Because it might hurt them. Be better for me to be quiet and hurt myself.

Mentally I feel like I’m nearing the edge. I’m exhausted from analyzing, re-analyzing, and over-analyzing. What can I do to change the situation, relationship, circumstances? Where did I go wrong? What have I done to attract so much stress?

It’s too the point I have a hard time even telling my husband if I’m disappointed about something. Like my birthday for example. He took me away for two nights which was wonderful, but the things I specifically asked for didn’t materialize. So I’m thankful for two days of rest with no responsibilities, but I also feel like he didn’t really hear what I said. It’s not that those other things would have made or broken the celebration, it’s knowing that you’re really heard, listened to, and understood. Oftentimes I feel like this. Insignificant.

There is a weariness that can attach to your soul, at the very core of who you are, when you are hit with yet another emotionally challenging crisis, after barely recovering from the previous one. I suppose everyone has issues to deal with in life. It’s those that walk through these trying times with a whole support system around them that I envy. People they know love them unconditionally, no questions. People who have let them cry, and cried to them. When I observe families functioning in this manner, this void in the very centre of my stomach opens up again, and I ache with longing. Longing to know what it’s like to truly belong. We were all born with a NEED for family. My own family, husband and children, are truly the first time I can say I have fully felt like I’m safe. I do have moments of anxiety over what I would do if I lost any of them, but I don’t like dwelling in such a dark place. Instead I try to focus on what I DO have today. Until this family began, I felt as if I had nothing, no one, and that is not a feeling on which I like to reminisce long.

God established family first and foremost, and since the fall, we’ve all been wounded by ours. I can only pray and trust that as I invest and pour my life into my own family, that they will come out much less wounded that I could dream. To know that I’ve hurt my children the way my parents have, and continue, to hurt me, is unthinkable. Totally unacceptable. I will consider everything I’ve done to be worthless, if I have adult children that struggle with their years with me, as I have done so with my own childhood, and growing up.

I think I may never lose the scars. They say time heals. Time also brings new challenges and wounds. I just pray that my scars don’t leave me emotionless and fearful. That I will be able to continue to contribute in a positive way to those dearest to me. Those my heart loves more than ever.

So Greg, Cole, Luke, Brett, Eliana, and our new dear Babe coming, please forgive my shortcomings. I love you all so much it hurts. But it’s the best kind of hurt. I often mess up, and find myself exhausted trying to do things the right way, the way I was never shown. But I embrace that exhaustion as we continue walking this road together. I will never intentionally injure your hearts, but should I ever wound you, deeply or otherwise, please forgive me. You mean the world to me. My life would be so empty without you. As hard as things can get, as overwhelming as my emotions can be at times, I need you all, and love every day with you. Going to bed exhausted from my own wounds is tragic. Going to bed exhausted because I love you is, simply, a pure joy.