I have been sitting in the peace and quiet of the office to do some long overdue Bible study for all of five minutes when the baby wakes up. With a heavy sigh that is becoming all too common, I go to the bedroom to pick up my fussy, probably getting sick, 8-month-old daughter who has been asleep for approximately 15 minutes.

I bring her to the office and put her on the floor with some new books and toys. Sitting back down in front of my own new book of Bible maps and charts, I begin reading once again. But as baby screeches interrupt me again, I realize this is just not going to happen right now. Picking up my baby, I notice one of her new books on the floor is an ABC Bible board book.

“Okay, baby, if Mama can’t read her Bible study book, then you can read your Bible study book.” I pick up the board book and read through the alphabet mini accounts of creation, sin, the Exodus, and Jesus.

My phone rings, and it’s my husband interrupting our Bible study this time. I answer and talk to him for a few minutes because time to connect with him is rare and precious. After I hang up, I finish baby Bible study and close the book. At least one of us got some spiritual nourishment this morning.

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I sigh again because I am mentally just so tired. I am so tired of interrupted and not-enough sleep every night. I am so tired of being a constant need-meeter. I am so tired of trying to feed my baby food she doesn’t want to eat. I am so tired of trying not to nurse her during the night to prevent her from throwing up.

I am so tired of the frequent, lengthy diaper changes trying to clear up a diaper rash we have been battling for the past week and a half. I am so tired of the reflux screaming. I am so tired of the rush to get my 5-year-old daughter ready for school in the morning in between changing three poopy diapers, getting an NG tube feed started, and brushing my own teeth.

I am tired of this stupid sore on the inside of my ring finger that burns every time I wash my hands because my hands are so dry in cold weather that they literally crack open and bleed. It’s been four days of bandages, antibiotic cream, and moisturizers—with no improvement. And, as a mom, I wash my hands about 7,893 times each day between changing diapers, preparing formula feeds, making purees, brushing children’s teeth, and cleaning up messes, which only makes my hands even more dry.

I am tired of the off-again on-again relationship I currently have with my hormones because they are thoroughly confused by my intermittent night-weaning strategies. What the heck are we doing here, woman? Are we still nursing every few hours during the night? Are we trying to quit?

Yes, we are trying to quit the nighttime nursing but not because I want to move on. I’m just trying to stop the vomiting. I’m just trying to do what’s best for my baby. But why is trying to nurse her less at 8 months old best for her? Everything is backward with a medical needs baby.

Having a baby is draining. Having two kids is draining. Having a medical needs baby is draining. Even having a mostly post-medical needs baby is draining!

And my hormone-induced sadness and desire to cry can’t decide if it wants to come or go because sometimes I don’t nurse the baby at night and sometimes her reflux demands that I must. So am I sad and letting go of this part of our breastfeeding journey that has already looked so very different than it did with my first daughter? Or am I frustrated that I had to nurse her all night and she threw up all over both of us several times because of it? I’m as confused as my hormones.

Lord, what do you have for me? I need a word. I need a lesson. I need some time with you every day. I need rest for my weary soul. Why can’t I find what I need when I open my Bible and read a passage or two before rushing off to get my baby’s meds ready, wash her formula mixing bottles, and rinse out her baby bath? I know You and I need more time together, but how?

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I’m tired of feeling tired. I want real rest. Not the kind when I lie down to drown in sleep for a half hour before being awakened by a cry. Not the kind when I watch 10 minutes of my favorite show before one of the kids needs me. Not even the kind when I go to bed 45 minutes later if I can manage to stay awake just so I can have a little me time.

I love being a mom. I love it. I cherish it. I thank God for this gift every single day. I truly do. But sometimes I need a break. Sometimes I would give just about anything for a day all to myself, responsible for absolutely nothing and no one. Just one day off every once in a while.

I had hoped that writing this out would illuminate some insightful lesson I could share with you, mama. I intended that by the end of this emotional flood of words, I would be able to bring you back to a steady place I wish I could claim for myself. I wanted to give you a golden nugget of spiritual truth.

But honestly, I don’t have any wisdom to share with you about this beautiful yet challenging thing called motherhood. However, I do want to thank you for hearing my struggle that you relate to so easily. I want you to know that you have brought me comfort by understanding. And I especially want you to know . . . I hear you too.