Today

I laid in my bed just staring at the ceiling.
It's light enough I can make out the texture.
I can see the red blink of the fire detector.
I feel the streams of tears pour out the corners of my eyes.
They are pooling in my hair.

Today was hard.
Not because she is difficult.
Not because she cries.
She sleeps pretty good.
She poops a lot.
She rarely cries.
She is getting enough food.
But because I am exhausted.
The lack of sleep caught up to me today.

I watched the clock waiting for my husband to get home.
I counted down the hours.
The minutes.
Listened for his truck to stop in front of our house.

I told her I love her.
I told her it wasn't her fault.
I told her to be patient with me today.

My mom was right when she said your first born will have a lot of tears fall on their head.

My arm ached from holding her for so long.
It took me a few minutes to regain my strength in that wrist.
But she was asleep.
The tears didn't phase her.
It's for the best.

I kissed her forehead and that was that.  One more day down.
I can do this.