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.
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.
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.