Thursday, November 08, 2007

No rest for the wicked.

Sleep and I? Used to be very good friends.

These days? Not so much.

Sleep eludes me now. It teases me and taunts me and makes me believe that she and I still have a relationship when in reality, we are like that final hook-up when you know it's over and you don't really want to admit it's over.

Either way? You feel like crap in the morning.

Finding sleep is easy enough. I'm exhausted. I fear that if I blink for one second more than I should, my boss will find me, slumped over and snoring.

It doesn't last though. I crash, soundly, and two hours later I am wide-awake and blinking at the ceiling, wondering how my life got to this point. How I'm ever going to pay off my student loans. What the hell I'm doing in the job I'm at. And if I'm ever going to be able to fix myself enough to effectively deal with my family. If I'm ever going to figure out who I am and what I need to be doing with my life, my marriage, and my children.

I found myself at two o'clock in the morning, on my computer. Searching for information about what to expect about the minor surgery I'm having tomorrow. Typing random names into Google search engines, wondering what became of all the people I used to know. Scratching my faithful companion behind her ears, while she lay at my feet, snoring softly.

I forced myself back to bed at three o'clock. I looked at the ceiling for a very long time and finally, fitfully fell into a dream.

In the dream? I had a baby.

When I dream about babies, it's just as likely to be a boy as a girl. I've often imagined the little son I would have with Jason. I've seen his face many times. Mostly he is named Owen. Sometimes, it is Jacob. Once? He was Paul.

But this time the baby was a girl.

She was beautiful, this daughter of mine. Her name was Abigail. She looked like an Abigail. She had dark hair and big green eyes. Her hair was wild and thick and soft. Her skin was clear and perfect. She was normal, not premature and not sickly.

I don't remember all of the dream. I do remember that having her came quite suddenly, and I was unprepared. So unprepared was I that I added a little Post-it note to my Christmas cards that said, "And Abby too!"

Because she was ours. She was part of our family.

The alarm clock jolted me out of my fantasy.

I'm still the same.
There is no Abby.
There will never be an Abby.

And worst of all?

I can't fix any of it.

So I cried in the shower. I cried in the car. And I sit here, now, trying not to cry.

Because crying won't fix it.


Angie said...

In my pre-Caroline days, I had many "Abigail" dreams, too. And, to be honest, there is nothing that anyone can say or do to make it feel better. They tried with me -- and it didn't work.

But, I will tell you that you are loved by three amazing people--and a kick-butt dog. You are adored by a throng of us out here in "web-land" who don't even know your name.

. . . and I hope that we can, somehow, bring a smile to your face like you consistently do to ours!!!

Your buddy here in town. . . A

Bethany said...

I am crying with you now.

You will figure things out- just conquer one thing at a time.

Wenderina said...

I don't have any words to ease your pain. But your honesty continues to humble me. There are many messages in dreams, especially those that come when you are exhausted and dreaming fitfully. Take a deep breath and re-visit your blessings and maybe "Abigail" will come to you in some totally unexpected way.

Bunny said...

Oh, honey, I'm sorry you feel this way. The longing must be unbearable. Hang in there. And be sure to wipe the drool off your desk and the keyboard marks off your face before your boss walks by.

Anonymous said...

Saying I'm sorry doesn't make it hurt any less. But, I am. People like you who so badly want and deserve Abby should be able to have your Abby. I'd give anything to help you. Seriosuly.

Mrs. Booms said...

Yeah, now I'm crying to. I know how jolting dreams like that are. I understand the pain of wanting a child so badly. I've never had a hard time getting pregnant, but I've had some struggle to keep my babies and as you know, I have lost.

Big hugs to you my friend... and crying at work sucks, I do it way more frequently than I should.

Anonymous said...

I am sorry that you are struggling so much. I have had similar issues and have found myself staring at the ceiling at 2:00AM. TylenolPM has helped me get through the night without feeling groggy the next morning.

Kimberly Vanderhorst said...

Crying might not fix things, but it doesn't make them any more broken either. You need that release. ~hugs~

Rachel (Crazy-Is) said...

I am crying with you. I don't understand why people that do not want kids and do not take care of them can get pregnant at the drop of a hat and you, someone that would love love love a baby and deserve one, cannot.

I wish I could do something to fix it.

Anonymous said...

My heart aches for you. I'm sorry. And even though crying won't fix it, sometimes it does help to get those emotions out. It can be cathartic.

Like everyone else, I wish I could help you or fix it. Instead I'm here to listen and "read" and let you know that I'm thinking of you and feeling your pain.

CPA Mom said...

I don't know what to say. I woke up crying from a dream yesterday so I know how it stays with you. I've emailed you. Hang in there. XOXOXOXOXOOXOXXOXO

Patiently waiting said...

Oh chick, I know how you feel. I wish there was something I could say to make it all better, but unfortunately there's not. Have you considered fertility treatments or are those not an option?

Amy W said...

I just spent the afternoon crying at a baby shower for my boss who after a long hard road of trying, just adopted a beautiful baby girl.....

I hope you get some real sleep soon...

Beckie said...

Just one thing at a time. Don't get overwhelmed.

my4kids said...

I'm crying with you, seriously. I read this post and I just felt so sad for you and your family. I hope someday you have your Abby, or Owen or Jacob. You deserve that baby.
I have troubles with sleep as well. I am up late at night because I can't stand the thought of laying in bed staring at the ceiling. I've also had dreams similar to that. I had my tubes tied but I did it when Maddie was born. I always tell people now not to do it when having a baby you are more likely to regret it. I know I have 4 kids but I still constantly have this feeling that there was supposed to be one more. In my dream its always the same a little boy with the same name each time.

SJINCO said...

Oh sweetheart, my heart aches for you. Simply aches.

Hang in there. Hope you get some restful sleep soon.

Anonymous said...

My Abby doesn't seem to be able to make an appearance either. Sometimes the sadness overwhelms me, but then I look at my Punkin and I have to move on. Hug those kiddos when you start feeling this way. It doesn't cure the pain, but it does help alleviate it a bit.

~big hugs~ to you from Unfertile Myrtle in AL

julie said...

Oh, Chick. I can't say I know how you feel, but my heart hurts reading that.

Sending you peaceful dreams.

Dreamer said...


I'm so, so sorry.


Anonymous said...

I hope you get some sleep soon, and some peace in your heart. I have walked in those shoes, knowing that I could not have another, having experienced the miracle of one. I think it gets easier with time, but it never completely heals. I'm sorry.

Maybe Abby will become part of your life in a different way. For me it was in the form of stepchildren. While it's not the same as having another biological child, they do fill my life with so much laughter and love. I hope something similar helps to fill that hole in your heart.

Dawn~a~Bon said...


I'm so sorry. If anyone deserves an Abby it's you.

Jocelyn said...

Oh, sweetheart, you are even more amazing to read when you're not being funny. We feel your heartbreak and overwhelmedness.

Crap, bu tthe subconscious does show us what really bothers us, underlying all the rest of the noise we feel in daily life.



Anonymous said...

Well damn. I don't know what to say. And for me that takes a lot. Just know I'm thinking about you.