The sleep deprivation affected spells was something I'd been playing with in the middle of the night when I couldn't rest. Vicious Mockery left myself feeling depressed and my imagery play always looked as if a child had created the scenes I would attempt to spawn. I definitely don't feel like myself from my inability to produce accurate magic to my body looking like a tired, worn version of itself. My mind trucks along slower and my reflexes are completely off. Even with all the issues I could list about myself that are troubling, I can't help but feel it's all worth it for the blessing of the gods in my arms.
All the love though doesn't change the fantasy that enters my head as I hold her where I'm the one getting to sleep upstairs instead of being awake right now. I know you've offered to help many times, and have done so without my protests whenever I end up falling asleep for a moment, but I try not to need the assistance too much. You still work with the crew to make sure our trading company stays on task as Poca and Angrath adjust to their new roles, not to mention servicing the needs of our town as they have been looking to us as the creators of the once desolate and ruined village. Despite my insistence that I can handle that too, you've made it very clear (much to my appreciation, not that I'd ever admit it) that if the townsfolk bothered me while I was still adjusting and resting, they'd have to deal with your wraith. Your wraith always amuses me on some level as it's so easy to break. No one else can do it, but just a touch and a look from me and I watch all the anger you hold melt away. Possibly the only magic trick I have that works and I adore the sight every time.
I feel Ana let me go and I pull her up to burp her. It took a few times to learn to make sure I have a spare cloth and my hair up when I do this, but I'm usually prepared for it now. I continue the thought train I'm on while I still can. A small smile spreads across my tired face as I resume thinking about how supportive you've been despite my desire to seem like I have this whole "mothering" thing down pat. I know I should rely on you more, but I try hard to scramble as quietly out of bed as I can to tend to our daughter in the evenings and nights to awaken you as little as possible so you are as well rested as much as you can be.
Realizing Ana has relief, I pull her off of my shoulder and back fully laid in my arms. I stare at her as she starts to drift back off, noticing how much she looks like the beautiful cross between the two of us that you showed me so early on in our pregnancy. My thoughts shift into seeing her as a young child riding with us through the countryside, joining us on errands around the town, playing with the other children, wrapping the rest of our party around her finger, being adored and doted on by her grandparents, and all other things I dream of for her. As I start to slouch down in the hard, wooden seat, I can't help but feel love for her. Through the exhaustion; the work I'm overexerting myself on to maintain her, our home, keep us fed, and any other work that appears at our door; the mad dash to make sure that I try to provide you as stable of a sleep schedule as possible; and the lack of self care I've had for myself, it all seems worth it. I close my eyes as I hold her, accidentally drifting back off myself to sleep, and think, "Yes, the loves of my life are both worth all of it."
I know you'll find me when you wake up and you'll take care of both of us. You always do as this has happened more frequently the last several days. Forever the devoted and loving husband and father you are. I'll adjust though so this won't happen. I'm sure of it in just a few days time. I'll adjust. I have to. I have to be a good mother and wife. I just have to.