Insomnia is a wicked evil thing to suffer from when you have an almost-nine month old. Back in my pre-kid days, I’d toss back a unisom and be in dream land twenty minutes later. I can’t do that anymore. Not only do I sleep too heavily to wake in case of emergency, I feel awful the next day – terribly tired and lethargic. Which is, ironically, how I will feel in the morning anyway.
When I was in college and I had insomnia, there was always someone up to talk to. Or, I’d just get on my computer and surf the internet, late-90’s style. There was always something in particular keeping me up – a paper that needed to be written, or my impending graduation and joblessness. Nothing that a little work couldn’t handle.
Now that I’m older and have big-girl problems, it’s harder to trick my body into sleeping. And the thought of “OMG I HAVE TO GO TO SLEEP BECAUSE ANNABEL WILL BE AWAKE IN THREE HOURS AAAAAAHHH” only makes it worse.
Watching TV doesn’t help.
Reading doesn’t help.
Cleaning CERTAINLY doesn’t help.
And so, I lay in bed. Staring at the ceiling. Listening to Mike sleep. I walk around. I watch Annie sleep. Even my reliable companion Rigby sleeps, although she usually lifts her head as if to say, “why are you UP?”
I’m up because…I ache for Madeline. Holding her memory just won’t do. I need to wrap my arms around her.