I’ve always been a night owl. For some reason I was always more productive after 9 PM, usually in bed by midnight. Now I see 2 AM most nights. I’m exhausted and would love to shut my eyes and my brain, but I can’t.
I read endless books, troll the internet or just lay there. I wish I could be one of those people that sleep through their grief, just lie there and soak it all up. It would be a much needed break from this new reality. I just want to close my eyes, close it all out and enjoy the blackness and the silence.
Instead I get out of bed and check on Darcy. I need to just be sure of her, see the rise and fall of her chest, surround myself in her. I need to know that she’s OK and that she’s still mine. I will never trust in her future, or any of ours. It changes too quickly.
I write to no one, which helps. I still can’t seem to make sense out of this. I’m hoping that by writing I’m able to release some of the madness that has taken up residence in my psyche.
The irony is that Benny slept through the night at 6 weeks old. Here I am still awake, exhausted, without my baby.
“I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep, standing on the edge of something much to deep. It’s funny how we feel so much, but cannot say a word, we’re screaming inside but can’t be heard.”. Sarah McLachlan