To sleep, perchance to dream

I'm tired.

Actually, tired doesn't capture it.  Exhausted misses the mark too.  Honestly?  I don't think there is a word in the English language to describe this feeling.

For more than two months, sleep has been coming at about 45 minutes at a time, less than 4 hours a night. I can't remember a night when I haven't seen every hour on the clock.

One night I went to bed at 11:30 pm and woke up at 12:30 am.  For the night.

It isn't all diabetes; we've had ear infections, upper respiratory infections, teething, adenovirus x3, night terrors, a baby who wants to nurse a least once a night, rashes, toddlers that wake up at 2:30 and declare themselves "awake for the day".

And then there was that time that Elise threw up all over her wall, bed, herself... and then went back to sleep.  There's nothing quite like walking into your child's bedroom for a 1:30 am BG check wondering, "what's that smell?" 

And of course, interspersed in all of that is diabetes, and the highs, lows, and ketones that comes with it.  Because diabetes has been such a jackass of late, no two nights are the same, making it impossible to make adjustments.  So every night we've been up either fixing a high, feeding a low, or setting temp basals to ward off both.

So.  I'm tired.  And it's stealing my joy.

I don't like the person I've become; I yell a lot.  I'm too tired to have fun with my kids. The thought of cooking, cleaning or doing anything domestic exhausts me to the point of tears.  I can't write. And worst of all, I can't even make sense of Elise's numbers anymore.  There is so much that needs fixing that I don't know where to start.  I can't spot a trend to save my life because my brain has turned to mush.

The other night, all three kids needed us at the same time; Lucas was crying, Mattias was having a night terror, and Elise was low.  It was 1:00 am and I had only been asleep for 30 minutes.  I turned to Fred and told him, "I wish I were dead."

I really don't, but there is a reason that sleep deprivation is a form of torture.

I usually try to find a nice, tidy way to end my blog posts... but nothing has come thus far; except maybe this:

And so, she fell into bed at an enviable 10:00 pm and slept blissfully, uninterrupted, until the morning alarm rang out it's greeting at 6:00. She awoke, feeling refreshed, and marveled that every morning should feel like this one.  From then on, she slept happily ever after.

The End.