Insomnia

It's 3:48 in the morning. I'm not awake by choice. That would be insane, considering I'll have to be up for the day in a few hours and then my day will require me to have patience and kindness towards my son. He's only two, after all, and it's not his fault that his mother is full of raging hormones. Hormones that keep me up and set my mind racing in directions I don't want it to go.

Today was one of those days where I felt like I was on the emotional edge all day, ready to spill over into anger and tears if the littlest thing happened. And it did, of course. Three phone calls too close together, screwing up what I was trying to get done and starting Boodge whining for attention. The store we finally got out the door to go to unexpectedly closed for renovations. And even worse, the news that my husband has to go away for work all next week, leaving me on my own with a 34-week belly and a 2-year-old. I'm getting to pregnant for this.

I just read on some forum, "Pregnancy is the loneliest feeling in the world." It resonated with me, though I was surprised to feel that way. In my fantasies pregnancy is a blissful, miraculous time where my family joyfully anticipates the blessing that is growing in my body. And it is that, to be sure. But also, it's a time when the only person who really understands what I'm going through is me. Me, and maybe any women who has been pregnant in the past.

But we all experience this change uniquely. Nobody else can share the feeling of sheltering this new life in this particular body under these particular circumstances. Nobody else has to anticipate the awesome responsibility of birthing a vulnerable new being. All life and death type encounters, I suppose, remind us of our own isolation as much as they remind us that we are all connected in some essential ways.

How do I explain it to someone, in the hope of reaching out for support? How the hormones can shift and suddenly I am not in control of how I'm feeling and reacting. How I go about my daily tasks of taking care of my home and my child, playing endless rounds of ball, making meals, paying bills, cleaning up, shopping, pushing the swing, comforting the bumps, cheering for the new tricks, waiting out potty trips, and all the time a part of my mind is somewhere only I can go. When did the baby last move? What will the birth be like? Will the baby be OK? Will I be OK? When will it happen? How will I handle the sleeplessness with a toddler? What if Sean has to travel? How will a second baby affect our marriage? How can I get a break from all this questioning? All the unknowns fill my mind, and I try to answer them, but there are no answers.

My life, and my family's is about to change profoundly. It is by choice, yes, and it's an incredible blessing. I am lucky in so many ways, stable, supported, loved. I am grateful. But that doesn't take away the fear of the unknown that comes with such a change, and the frantic and fruitless human urge to predict and control the possibilities. In carrying a baby, I carry all of that unknown too, and it's scary. So I lie awake, because in the daytime I have to try to be strong, patient, kind, and loving. I have to do my part to steer my family through this transition smoothly. So at night, when I get to be alone, my mind sets to worrying.

Things always look better in the morning. It's now after 5am and things are looking better already. So I'm off to bed. I think I can sleep now, and I hope I can get a couple more hours. I want this blog to be a positive space, but sometimes, things feel heavy, and releasing that heaviness is positive. Honestly sharing anxieties that I know other women, and even expecting fathers, experience too, is positive. This ones for all those pregnant, anxious Mama's who may be reading this in their own insomnia. You're not alone, although it may sometimes feel that way.