Last night Momma got exactly ZERO hours of sleep. I watched the clock tick, tick, tick - 11pm, midnight, 1 am, 2 am, <groan> oh 4:00 am please bring some hope of rest. Nope!
Why the insomnia? Because The Pickle hasn't reached that magical age when sleep feels safe for Momma. And St. Louis is back in a freezing cold snap that feels a bit too familiar. A bit too much like January of 2011. So Momma's brain stayed up all night, waiting. Watching. Staying vigilant. For what? Death to arrive at our doorstep again. He found us once...
What is that magical safe age for Momma when sleep will no longer be terrifying? Maybe three. Four? I don't know. The data surrounding SUDC is so limited it's hard to say - when are we safe? Are we ever safe? We thought we were safe with you when you reached one year of age.
In the midst of this fear, I am trying to soak in the ordinary moments as I contemplate these questions - these horrible questions. Savor the love of everything "normal" with The Pickle. His love of trucks, stomping to music with a strong beat, chicken and steak but NOT bread or rice, and his very Peanut-like desire to give big hugs and kisses.
The ordinary is today, tomorrow and the next day - whatever they may bring. When and if they arrive.
The normal is what makes our memories with you so amazingly wonderful. Like reading your favorite bedtime story every night. Momma loves you to the moon - and back!