Sleepless in utero

Insomnia,
In love,
Inside

I wake up at night for at least two hours, and the fatigue is starting to show in my eyes.

Every night when my internal alarm clock kicks me out of sleep at 2 a.m., I toss and turn and try to find just the right position, all while trying not to wake up Patrick. I stop and listen, and can tell by the rhythm of his breath that our mattress set was well worth every penny, so I continue to toss and turn. I stuff and re-stuff the pillows around me and rub my feet together for comfort, over and over again ... while he sleeps on.

Then, just when I think I've found the perfect position, our 20-week old baby starts to do her/his own tossing and turning. While I'm sure her/his mattress is supportive and well worth every pound I put on to supply it, it's not so perfect that I don't feel the child's little moves here and there.

So I lie in the bed with my hands placed on my uterus and dream of the day or night the child inside is delivered to my arms and laid upon my chest where s/he'll nuzzle and hear for the first time my heart beat from this side of life.

I recently received some new insight into what that heartbeat is like:

A man, who didn't have such a loving mother when he was six months old, regressed through therapy in order to accept nurturing messages from an "ideal mom," a role player. He laid his head upon her chest. Was silent. And then wept. The bearded man talked about his ideal mother's heartbeat and the resonance of her voice as he listened with his ear to her body.

I cried.

He was doing his own "work," and receiving a much-delayed gift: A mother's love and promise of protection. At the same time, I received a gift: The gift of hearing the words that infants can't say; That my infant won't say ... but will feel.

"I feel safe. I feel loved."

So at night when I'm awake and the child inside of me is awake, we toss and turn and get comfortable with each other, and in my mind I hold the child. And I tell the child that s/he is safe and loved. And that s/he'll feel that way long after the mattress I supply for her/him now is gone.

I already look forward to tonight's early-morning connection with the child inside. And to the time when instead of waking up for two hours every night, I wake up every two hours throughout the night.

And to the mornings, when I look in the mirror and see that the fatigue is showing in my eyes -- along with a sparkle.