Fifty hours of work in two weeks while your child is in the ICU for 21 days, through the holidays, and then coming home to weeks of no sleep? It’s not just busy. It’s survival.
There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from never fully standing down. Your nervous system doesn’t have a chance to exhale. The holidays ending doesn’t magically undo that, and neither does being “home.” Home still requires you to stay alert, to advocate, to troubleshoot, to hold it together. Doing all of this while showing up to work and parenting through uncertainty, it’s tough. It’s a lot, even if it doesn’t always feel like it should “count” on paper.
I am still messaging his doctors, still trying, still noticing direction instead of just despair, trying to stay grounded and attentive, even when I’m running on fumes.
And then there’s this:
When Hudson is tired and just wants to be held, it’s regulation. It’s safety. It is his body saying, this is where I can rest, even if sleep hasn’t fully come yet. Being held is medicine for him, and it’s healing for me too; oxytocin, calm, a reminder of why I keep going when everything feels so heavy.
I was ready for the holidays to be over, and I’m allowing myself to be okay with that.
As hard as this season has been, I still continue to hold onto hope. 
“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” -Isaiah 40:31