Sleep Deprivation, Life Deprivation

I have an 11 month old newborn. For 11 months, I have never slept through the night. Now, before all you parental units and non-parental units tell me that I need to just let her cry it out or that I am spoiling her, let me tell you, I have tried it all. So, tell me, tell me, what is there left for me to do? Besides invest in a really good under eye concealer, I think my options are all out. I have let her cry it out, I have tried patting her back, I have nursed her, I have done all variations of all of the above. Short of slipping a nubain into her food, I am exhausted, tired, fatigued, and all other synonyms that might explain my haggard spirit.

I will often lie in bed (like this morning) after she goes down for a nap and pray, beg, and plead with God for her to sleep for at least a full hour, if not a glorious two, and yet I think He is all backed up with requests that are far more important. I can't believe that this issue has affected my life so much. I have little interest in anything other than sleeping, I have little energy for relationships and people, and I certainly am doing a less than great job around the house.

Yes, I DO still have the energy to blog. Though it is work, I muster up the strength each day to lift my fingers high enough to apply JUST the right amount of pressure onto the keyboard, and to pound out some rational sentences. Semi-rational, maybe.

On another note, we tried a new church last week. It meets at a hotel (not a seedy one, mind you) and is sort of trying to market itself as a seeker-friendly community using lots of different creative mediums. It was VERY contrived, in my opinion. The music was solid, but they played movie clips from Braveheart, Gladiator, and Robin Hood while the words "What is the cry of your heart?" flashed across the screen. A few years ago, this might have moved me a bit, but now, I just think it is so forced, so contrivedly put together, and so "Ra, Ra, Let's get fired up about our passion, our hearts, our purpose!" that it puts me off a little bit. The pastor was a good ol' boy from Georgia who moved here with the sole intent of planting a church in the south Denver suburbs--which is so overchurched it is insane. I did not care for him or his trite message about how we commit to a church: "in pencil, in ink, or in blood". Not sure about the blood thing... His intentions were solid, surely, and his message wasn't theologically wacky or out there, but it was just very simple, formulaic, and blah. To speak of the "cry of my heart", I would say it is cynical and pretty bored. I am trying to be open as we visit different churches and try to find a community, but thus far, it is definitely no SP. I am trying my expectation lowering technique when it comes to marriage, churches, and everything else right now. If I just lower my expectations, then I won't be disappointed....a bad idea, I realize, but there is so much longing and desire right now that is brewing for me, for my family, and for our lives that I do not know what to do with it.

My Mom's house will be ready November 5th...which will be a good thing for her, and for us. Her living here hasn't been too bad in many ways (the extra help with the kids, the house, etc...has been swell), but when she told me this week that "it doesn't seem like I clean the house or that I enjoy cleaning" it wasn't a bright moment for me. Or, that when I forgot to turn in Eli's hot lunch form for school that "I wasn't a very organized person". No, I do not enjoy cleaning, and at times, I am not organized.

But, I am, however, happy it is Friday and that Carla Barnhill's new book is supposed to arrive either today or tomorrow.