At times like this I try to remind myself of how tired he is (how tired we both are) and try not to take it personally, but it’s hard when he is not the man I know.
This morning as I gave DJ his bottle at 6am I couldn’t help but think: I always wanted two children, but this baby stage – these days and nights that just blur and blend together into one big mess of exhaustion and spit up and diapers – is utterly exhausting, and I don’t know if I have it in me to do it again. I sincerely doubt that Dom does either.
Somehow it’s already July. The days are hot and sticky and the feeling of isolation inside is nearly deafening. If only there was some relief from the heat and sun so that I could get DJ and myself outside in the fresh air. For now, though, we are limited to quick errands.
There is an extreme heaviness behind my eyes this morning. To say that I am tired would just not do it justice. This constant struggle to figure out why suddenly DJ is not drinking as much, or why his napping seems to have all but fallen off the map, is exhausting. It’s always a guessing game, and there’s always that hope that whatever it is he is going through is just a phase that will soon be over. I hope for Dom’s sake more than mine that this is the case.
Excerpts from my journal, inspired by Ronnie.