Six mornings ago I woke in mourning. I had miscarried a second child. I was sure of it.
I knew I had been dreaming. But the line between wraith and reality had been blurred. I no longer knew where fears-turned-dreams ended and memories began.
What is it called when you can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but you wake up a dozen times throughout the night, toss, and go back to dream-riddled-sleep? Is that still considered insomnia?
Those too-real dreams can really affect a girl, and so, even though I realized the truth of it before I had finished my bowl of cereal, I was left in a funk. I’m still not sure if I’ve fully shaken it.
Since then, I have been having night after night of restless sleep. I have tried going to bed early to allow myself to actually rest. I have tried staying up and going to bed exhausted. I have tried taking a sleep aid for the first (maybe second) time in my life. Nothing has helped. (And for the record, the Advil PM made matters worse.) Today I cut out all caffeine. Except chocolate. So I struggled with a headache all day. And now I’m up past my bedtime. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll dream happy, restful dreams tonight.
Or none at all.