09/29/2026
Let’s talk about medical mom exhaustion.
It’s not just “being tired.”
Today is day 23 of Benji fighting this virus. A head cold.
And every time a virus like this hits us, whether we end up in the hospital or manage it at home, it unlocks a level of exhaustion that my mitochondria can barely handle.
But it’s not just being tired.
It’s fight, flight, freeze or scroll because the anxiety is so bad.
It’s sleeping with the lights on so you can see his face as he coughs. And snoozing with one ear listening during the brief moments you actually get sleep.
It’s PTSD because you’ve seen him nonresponsive one too many times in the last couple of weeks.
It’s jealousy because everyone else’s kids handle colds like champs.
It’s sadness because it is not fair that we are in the fourth week of at-home ICU-level, critical care because of a cold.
It’s anxiety because you know what is on the line if you make a mistake. If you miss a symptom. If you can’t calm his body down.
It’s lonely because at the four-week mark (ahem, 11th year) of this, people stop checking in. When they do and they ask “How’s Benji?” you know you can’t unload the entire truth because not many people can handle it. And do they really want to know?
It’s grief because you lost a month of adventures in a story that’s already too short.
It’s medical risk calculations and hourly care routines because his normal daily meds and care aren’t sufficient right now.
It’s stress because you are behind on work—and an entire fundraiser to care for other families is dependent on getting the marketing done to share AHP’s 5K and Camp: HOPE FULL details.
It’s dopamine hunting because this is really hard, and cookies and online shopping are like band aids on a head wound.
It isn’t just exhaustion. It’s a physical, mental, and emotional depletion unlike any other.
Today I left my house today for the first time in 8 days and 16 hours (thanks for keeping track, Life360).
It’s been Groundhog Day. I have lost all of September. After losing most of August. It has been a really hard year for Benji. For my family. And I’m really sad.
At the end of this week, I am going back to Disney with a group of women who are all celebrating something. Together. Women who have been patient as we weren’t quite sure if Benji would be canceling the trip. Women who stood in solidarity saying “if Benji is too sick — we aren’t going.”
I am excited to go. But I’m also dreading it.
Benji is finally stable enough (as of this morning) that I feel like it will be okay to leave. My PTSD tells me that bad things happen when I leave. Which, thanks to therapy, I know this isn’t true. (I finally left for an hour today and nothing bad happened.)
I know Dada can handle Benji’s current level of care. I know Benji is coming back into his personality, which means he is finally starting to feel better.
I know all the things. And I know they can all be true at the same time.
But geez I hope that after a long, long month, I’m not about to spend the entire trip anxious about what is happening at home.
I hope I can actually exhale.
I hope I can laugh with my friends. Ride rides. Eat Mickey shaped treats. Drink something ridiculous. Sleep without one ear listening. Hunt for epic pins. Let someone else be responsible for a few days.
I hope I can unwind and refresh enough to come home and keep going.
Because eventually the crisis ends. But you don’t magically become un-exhausted when it does.
You just start figuring out how to put yourself back together until it happens again.
— Suz
PS. Whether you like running, strolling or omg drinking around the world at Epcot for 3.1 miles?? Please consider supporting/liking/sharing The Apricity Hope Project’s 5k! The medal is STUNNING. We are sending you a 5k in a box! And anyone can do it! Heck, don’t do the 5k and just turn the medal into a Christmas ornament! I don’t care!
