the fog

I sometimes feel like I'm standing in the middle of a fog. I am turning on the spot but I can't quite make the way out. And I am tired. I am just so tired. I want to lay down but I can't. My brain is whirling away, like a children's top, but it's spinning out of control. And then he's crying again and all I want to do is soothe him. Comfort him. But I can barely hold him. My arms want to give out under the weight. I'm hushing him. I do it subconsciously now. I do it more for me than him. I need the reminder. I need the calm feeling of a hand on my back, the sound of a heart beating, the warmth of a body next to mine. And so does he. We are both so tired. Our distraught energies feeding off each other. Deep breaths. Calming breaths. The waves of sleep start to crash down around us. I feel us drifting off. But for how long? And my eyes spring open. I look down at my sleeping baby. So peaceful now. Dreaming of cuddles and boobies and dangling toys. And I wonder when it will be my turn. I hate insomnia.