It's a bit blurry, but I think it was around July of last year when I started sleeping through the night again.  It had been months since Sully weaned himself from my milk; months since both of my loves slept through the night.  But not me.  I would wake, sure I heard one of them calling out for me only to be met with silence and darkness.  With a bit of luck I would fall back to sleep.   Mostly I would turn on my side, push the sheets away and wish for a sliver of moonlight to shine on me, to take away the deep pit I felt in my heart that my babies were not babies anymore.  Often I'd wonder how in the world that went so damn fast...and then the sun would rise.

Each night before I go to bed I take two Calms Forte - a homeopathic sleep aid because I need the calm and the sleep.  This formula works wonders for me.  Somewhere along the way I even stepped out of my web of sadness and grief, accepting that life moves forward, and isn't this sleep so precious and lovely like a newborn's breath?

Last night, homeopathic kicking in, I fell asleep.  At some point I thought I heard one of my children calling for me, or maybe it was part of my dream...and then I heard it again, "Mom...Mama...Mom..."  Theo.  I slipped in beside him.  He cried and kicked his legs.  Then he cried and grabbed his ears.  I knew there was no use in trying to reason with him because I don't believe he was awake.  I smoothed his hair and stayed silent.  He calmed down.  Moments later I heard another cry only this time it was from around the corner.  "Mama...Mama...I need you Mama..."  Sully.  I found him sitting up sweaty and asking for water.  I handed him the cup from his dresser and listened as he drank delicately.  Thirst satisfied, I smoothed his hair and held my hand on the soft swell of his back until he, too, was fast asleep again.  Shortly after I fell back asleep in my bed Theo cried out again. 

As I walked to his room I felt vaporous.  I felt like glowing tissue paper.  One foot in this world and one foot in a world that is wondrous where time stands still.


  1. beautiful. and yes, you are still very much needed :)

  2. Oh boy, you know, I haven't slept through the night in two years. (But we're getting closer.) I can't be too sentimental: if you'd like to trade kids, though... ;-) Or maybe just find a good photograph of your little ones sleeping for your dashboard. That might be a lot less...um...disruptive...but still poetic?

    1. Oh man. Not sleeping is a cruel, cruel thing. Glad to hear you're getting closer.

  3. "Somewhere along the way I even stepped out of my web of sadness and grief, accepting that life moves forward.."
    I know that sadness and grief - I am getting closer every day to say it is completely behind me - so hard.
    Beautiful. Read this post twice and may revisit it again soon.

  4. Such a lovely post, stirring familiar emotions and remembrances of those sleepless nights. And still even at 7 and 9, there is something wonderful about lying next to my babies and wishing sleep for us both. They still call out for me now and then, sometimes in my dreams and sometimes for real. Either way, I still pop up out of bed like it was yesterday.
    hugs my friend