Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Insomnia

heart moon

Isn’t that a neat picture? I wanted a photo to accompany this post, so I googled “moon photos” and found this one. I just thought that the way the clouds formed to reveal only this portion of moonlight was haunting and romantic and beautiful all at the same time.

I’m actually writing this post at 10 pm on Tuesday. Jim is asleep across the room from me, and The Deadliest Catch is on in the background.

I know that it is time to go to bed, but I don’t want to.

Oh, I’m tired enough. Today was a full day of running and mommying and shopping for new master bedroom bedding and cooking and emailing and blogging and cleaning and laundering and all the other –ings that I have fill up my days.

But in the past several days, going to bed has brought little, if any, rest.

It seems that as soon as I settle in, the silence becomes deafening. Well, maybe silence isn’t quite the right word. Jim’s even breathing, the whir of the ceiling fan, the tick tock from the bathroom clock – all familiar and even soothing sounds.

Yet.

It is only when I attempt to pillow my head that my being slows enough – calms enough – for me to hear myself think. And inevitably, I do, and almost without fail, my thoughts turn to Duncan.

His sweet face, red and wrinkled, materializes before my mind’s eye. I sigh. I don’t want to think about him – about what happened. It hurts so. But in the pseudo-silence, I can’t help but let my mind replay the events of a month ago.

Some nights, I re-walk Saturday’s steps: to Dr. Rohr’s office, where Joel tried to find Duncan’s heartbeat; to the Labor & Delivery ward at Toledo Hospital; to my parents to deliver the news; back to my in-laws, where I finally and completely fell apart in my mother-in-laws arms.

Some nights, it’s Monday that I replay: haggling with the insurance company on the phone; lunch at Bravo! with Jim (“can I get some pinot, please?”); the laminaria insertion crisis; talking to Kendra for hours that night – long enough to stave off the benefits of my Ambien.

But no matter the chapter read, without fail, this is how I spend my late night hours. And I’m growing weary of it.

Not the thinking of Duncan, or even of the circumstances of his life.

But the insomnia. It is severe and it is complete. I don’t even know the last night I spent in my own bed, for after an hour or two of tossing and turning and fearing that I’ll wake Jim, I move to the guest room to toss and turn in private. Eventually, I drift into a fitful sleep, and wake, anything but refreshed, to –ing all over again.

So, tonight, I decided to take these some twenty-odd minutes to write about the plight, in hopes that I’ll get it out of my system.

Tonight, I hope that once I hit publish, that I’ll be able to enjoy a restful night, on my beautiful new sheets, next to my wonderful husband.

I toss my sleep-preventing thoughts to you tonight, Interpeeps. Do with them what you will.

***UPDATE***

12:02 AM: I’m still awake; eating Quaker Caramel Drizzle Rice Cakes, watching Jimmy Fallon, wondering when sleep will come.

1:33 AM: Still here. Sigh.

11 comments:

Valerie said...

I know that sometimes the silence can be deafening, especially when you're left to your own thoughts. If you ever need someone to talk to - please feel free to buzz me.

Sending continued prayers.

Val

willemien said...

Time has not has had a change with you yet.. you suffered your loss only one month ago. So, so fresh.
God's bless,
Willemien (from the Netherlands)

Newt said...

Oh Monica, I wish I could box up some sleep and send it to you. Or, alternatively, share some rice cakes and talk the night away. But from far away, I'm sending good wishes and hopes that your mind can find some peace and rest.

Thinking of you and little Duncan.

Sara said...

I have been reading your blog since you lost Duncan. I am so sorry.

I experienced insomnia too after the death of my son. I would relive every moment of the day I gave birth to him - at 26 weeks. I would relive every moment of the day, 5 days later, that he went to be with the angels. Heck, I relived every moment that had to do with my Samuel.

It does get better. I can't remember when, but I do know that one night I just fell asleep. It will get better.

I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers as you go through this part of the grieving process.

God bless.

Kristin (kekis) said...

Oh honey, I'm sorry the night are so hard. It's easier to cope during the day when it's light and busy, and the night just gives us too much peace and time to think. I wish I could help. Email me on those nights, and if I'm up we can chat if you need it.

Hillary @ The Other Mama said...

Oh, Monica. That's awful. So sorry that you can't rest your mind and I know your heart won't be able to rest for a while. Still praying for you and loving you-

The Fabulous Ms. Beth said...

hugs mama.

Henninger Family said...

Nights are the worst and like you I had many nights of replaying all the events of the day we found out the news about Hudson. You are doing such an amazing job and you are in my nightly prayers.

~Kimberly

Brooke said...

I know how bad nights can be, but for me sleep means nightmares. I hope that your mind is able to give you some respite. We watched a lot of Friends reruns in the month after the fire just so that we could slow down enough to go to sleep... and Ambien helped, sometimes. I hope you get sleep tonight... maybe you'll think about your new blog, and that will make it easier to sleep!

Kelly @ The Beauty of Sufficient Grace said...

Sweet Monica...I know this plight well...

Praying for peace and rest for you...it will come, dear friend. This is all very fresh and raw.

Praying continually for you...

Mochamama said...

Monica- I'm praying for you and your family daily. I can relate to you in so many ways especially the insomnia. Its been four months since our son was born stillborn and I struggle almost every night to go to bed and then to stay asleep. I don't know if this helps at all, but I talked to my doctor about giving me something to help me fall asleep and it does help some days. Just a suggestion. I think writing is a great way to let everything out...Carrying it all inside can be so draining. Finding others in the blog world who have gone through the same type of situation has really helped me to talk and share as i've had a hard time sharing with alot of my friends. Please feel free to email if you want to talk or need someone to listen. God Bless.