Sleep

Man! I could not get comfortable tonight. I tried to add the squishy body pillow with the soft ,microsuede cover as an amiable bed companion. This did not seem overly successful as the tossing and turning of my body beneath the pile of blankets continued. 
"Maybe I'm thirsty", I say to myself. "Dave made me eat that delicious thai food. What was he thinking?" I am too lazy to go downstairs and I decide the water that comes out of the bathroom faucet might suffice. "Oh, no! It tastes like drain ditch water", I lament ,as I spit out the mouthful before I can chug another swallow down. The drain ditch was a murky moat of water that ran by the side of my house growing up. Cows frequented it's banks and frogs and carp fish swam in it's swirling depths. Growing up in rural Idaho, we played long hours outside. Instead of going inside for a drink, we would often grab the nearest hose to refresh ourselves. It was always difficult to tell ,without sampling a mouthful first, if the hose water originated from the well house or the dreaded "drain ditch". Until my brother grew bigger than me, it was often Chad's job to be the hose sampler.  He  took his job cheerfully and dutifully until he realized what his older sisters were up to.  Poor Chad! I do finally make the descent downstairs and try fresh juice from the fridge, but thirst is not my problem either.

I see two bodies resting on the couch on the way to the basement, and I have to touch their hair.  I have loved stroking my kids brows when they are asleep since they were babies. During the day they are too busy for cuddling, but at night, their subconscious minds do not contest . They often know I do this because the next day they will say, "Mom, were you in my room last night again?"I hope they know I love them? When did I say the words, "I love you" last? Why am I too busy to tell them everyday? I do not know if they always sense I am there, but many times they do. I like seeing them resting so serene, eyes closed, bodies weary from a day full of play.
My mind suddenly pictures my patient from yesterday stroking her newborn's brow and now I know what is keeping me awake tonight.  My eyes fill with tears, I grab the cuddly,white lap dog and I decide I need to sleep in one of the kid's rooms tonight. If only for the reassurance that there is a room and a child to come home to on this night. My patient had had to come home to an empty nursery yesterday. I cannot imagine the hollowness of that room, the crib open, waiting. The mobile never wound up. The rocking chair missing it's rhythm that would have rocked that babe to sleep. That mother's arms, curved for holding a baby, heavy, aching for it's small, warm bundle.
I crawl in my daughter's bed. She will be angry I messed up her bed, but I don't care. I want to breathe in her scent. Instantly my body relaxes and my lids begin to grow heavy.
Yesterday,  I was going to wash the baby blankets from the delivery for my patient,as they had been a little soiled. I looked at them and from one mother to another,however, I decided I would want all of it there. That I would want whatever part or scent of my baby that  was on that blanket. That it wasn't weird or creepy, but rather the sense of smell evokes the part of the brain with the strongest memory. I would want to have that smell there as long as I could to remind me my baby was real and that my baby was still mine.
Now I am breathing in the scent of my child. I am having a hard time staying awake, but I am praying for a minute. I pray  the other mother is smelling her baby like I am smelling my daughter. I am praying that she will know her child is just as much hers as my daughter is mine. I pray she will know just like my daughter's know subconsciously when I am there while they are sleeping, that her baby will always know she is there for her ...while she sleeps .