I fell apart today. I fell hard and I fell fast. It’s been two weeks of vomiting, and Influenza, and kids home sick from school, and no relief, and little sleep. I’m taking antibiotics for my own flu that turned into nastiness, but it’s not a miracle cure, so I’m trying to take care of myself and everyone and everything else. The house is a disaster. It’s just been puke after puke, and laundry, and cleaning floors, and cleaning people. Now I’m yelling at the kids, and I’m arguing with Tyson, and I’m not even mad at them. I’m not even mad. I’m just so, so tired. And it’s just so heavy today. 

All I want to do is feed my child. I feel like I haven’t been able to for his entire life. Since he was 3 months old, I’ve been doing something wrong. It’s like the most basic, natural, automatic thing in the world. But for us, it never really worked. Nothing ever worked. And I feel like I’m failing him; I just keep failing him. It hurts. Oh God, how it hurts. Mentally, emotionally, even physically. My poor heart is broken and it keeps breaking. It’s too much. 

And I look at my poor, sweet, skinny child and I cry because I can’t help him. I can’t help him. I can’t fix this. I wish he knew how hard I have fought for him. I wish he knew that I would do anything to make things better for him. I hope he knows how loved he is. Loved so hard it takes my breath away. 

And I know I will pick myself back up and I will keep going, and keep fighting, but sometimes, in these moments, it feels like I just cannot carry on. It feels like I can’t breathe. Like I can’t handle one more thing. 

Sometimes it all has to explode before it can get better again. I’ve learned this over the years. Sometimes you hit the bottom, the lowest you feel your heart can go and your spirit can sink, and then, somehow, you claw your way back up again. 

And that is where I am today. And in this moment all I can do is tell myself that I am okay, that Ryder will be okay, that we will all be okay. That every day will not be as hard as this one. But for now, for right now, I sit in this pain, and I let it out with every tear, and every gasp for air. And when I catch my breath, I remind myself that I can do this. That I have to do this. That I will do this. And I pray that tomorrow is a little easier than today.