Sleep Deprived but Still Smiling
RDNE / Contributor
There’s tired—and then there’s mom tired. You know the kind. It lives in your bones, hides behind your smile, and shows up in sentences that trail off halfway through because your brain just gave up. You reheat your coffee three times and still forget to drink it. You walk into a room and have no idea why you're there. You survive on caffeine, crumbs, and hope.
This isn’t about dramatic breakdowns or epic solutions. This is about what it really looks like to keep going when your body is begging you to lie down and your toddler just spilled yogurt on the couch.
The Exhaustion Is Real
Motherhood has a way of stretching you in ways you didn’t think were possible, and sleep is often the first thing to go. The newborn nights feel endless. The toddler years bring bedtime routines that somehow last longer than most movies. Even older kids have sleep regressions, nightmares, or the sudden need for a deep life conversation at 11:17 p.m.
This kind of exhaustion isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. It’s the mental fatigue of remembering everything for everyone. The invisible weight of planning meals, managing schedules, and noticing when the toilet paper is running low again. It’s no wonder you feel worn thin. And yet, somehow, you keep going.
The Quiet Strength of Moms
There’s a kind of strength in moms that isn’t loud or flashy. It’s quiet. Steady. Often unnoticed, even by the moms themselves. It’s in the way you get up before the sun to make breakfast while wiping sleep from your eyes. It’s in the 2 a.m. feedings, the school lunches packed in a daze, the patient answers to questions that never stop coming. It’s in your ability to keep loving, even when you're running on fumes. This kind of strength doesn’t always feel heroic. But it is.
What Actually Helps (Even a Little Bit)
Let’s be honest. Some days, there’s no perfect solution, no amount of sleep hygiene tips or lavender oils that will fix what you're feeling. But sometimes, small things can make a dent. Micro-rest counts. Two minutes of sitting with your eyes closed can help ground you, even if someone is crawling on your lap. Ask for help. This doesn’t make you weak. It makes you wise. Let your partner, a friend, or your mom step in. Lower the bar. A clean-ish kitchen and kids who are loved are enough. Frozen waffles and hugs make a great breakfast.
Say no to extra obligations, to that playdate you’re dreading, to anything that pushes you past your limit right now. Stretch, move, or breathe. Even if it’s just three deep breaths in the pantry. Your nervous system matters. Laugh when you can—at yourself, at the absurdity, at the socks in your purse or the toy in your shoe. Cry when you need to. It’s not weakness—it’s release. Let it come and let it go. Pray. Journal. Text a friend. Whatever brings you back to yourself, even a little. You don’t need to fix everything. You just need to take care of the woman who is taking care of everyone else.
A Reminder You Might Need Today
If no one’s told you lately, you’re doing a good job. You might be moving slower. You might forget things. You might have days when you feel like you’re underwater. But you are showing up. You are meeting needs. You are loving deeply, even while running on empty.
This doesn’t mean you have to power through forever. It means you get to give yourself grace today. Rest when you can. Say yes to help. Say no to pressure. You’re not failing. You’re human. And tired or not, you are still the safe place your child needs most.
The Beauty in Showing Up Anyway
Sleep deprivation doesn’t take away your strength—it just makes it harder to feel. But it’s still there. In every tired smile. In every story read with heavy eyes. In every whisper of “I love you” when all you really want is silence.
You are not alone in this. Every mom reading this has felt that same fog, that same weariness, and that same quiet resilience. So if you're barely hanging on today, know this: showing up, even tired, is a kind of love that doesn’t always get applause, but it changes lives. Starting with theirs.
Keep going, mama. Gently. You’re doing sacred work.
