".......for when she wakes she will move mountains."
Taylor had drill this weekend. So I've spent the last two nights alone. No big deal.
But for some reason, I was convinced I was going to die last night. I pictured it like this: I'd fall asleep eventually, around 1:30 am. My brain wouldn't shut off last night. I was pretty sure I was having a brain aneurysm (I felt a tightening in my temples), and that I would die immediately. Poor Sawyer would wake up, hungry. He'd be attached to his food pump, his g-tube would come out, and the hole in his belly would close up. He'd cry, slapping me in the face to wake up, and would eventually fall back asleep from exhaustion. We'd miss church. Sawyer would wander around the house, picking up crumbs from the floor, talking to his halloween pumpkin bucket. Hershey would probably lick my face and then finally late, in the afternoon, Taylor would return home to a hungry, dehydrated little boy and a dead wife.
WHY do I think about this kind of stuff? At night? Right before bed? In reality, my temples were tight because I chewed the crap out the gum from halloween the past two days. I probably couldn't sleep because I had a diet Dr. Pepper at dinner, and it's probably a good thing I was awake at 2:45 a.m. because Sawyer decided to pull his g-tube out of his belly. Had I not heard the sound of tape being ripped from his stomach, it probably would have been a bad situation. Because I was alone and would have slept right through it.
Tonight, I will get out my Lavender essential oils and lotions and fall asleep to my favorite show (The Office), knowing that it's safe to turn off my brain, my ears, and quiet my fears, if only for the night. I prefer facing my demons in the light of day, after I've eaten a balanced breakfast and had my usual morning diet coke.
