Early thoughts

     Sleep is overrated. For me, it's become a time to worry without the crucial ability to do something to adjust whatever I'm worried about. 

     Chief among worries this early morning: a niggling pressure in the lower abdomen. Is it getting worse? I can't tell. It's enough to wake me up and keep my brain twirling. Worry. 

     Secondary concerns: Final meeting with freelance client at 10:00 this morning, followed by two hours of brainstorming an acronym for a process change (different client), then to campus for first day/night of classes: poetry workshop beginning at 4:00, followed by Literary Editing and Publishing at 7:00. Home by 10:00. Long damn day. And on just five hours of sleep... 

     I'll plan better from now on so I don't overload myself (easy to do because I'm an off-the-chart introvert). This summer, it was helpful to build in E-time every day -- at least two hours between appointments, no more than two appointments per day (doctor, therapy, freelance or otherwise). Some days I'd have absolutely nothing on my calendar. What a luxury! Time to read, time to paint the ceiling in the front parlor a beguiling shade of sunset orange. And I got into the habit of fetching A early from pre-K summer camp on Fridays so we could "be girls together" for a few hours. I want to keep that up as long as possible. 

     Which brings me to the uber worry: A and M. She was so little when she got pulled into this mess, all she really understood was that Mama had a booboo in her tummy and the doctor was going to fix it. Last year, the first half of which I spent in bed, she was four and in need of explanation and reassurance. Now, at five, this Daddy's girl has grown a little clingy to me, possessive, a bit vigilant, even. And my worry is, of course, that she's so much more aware of what happens around her in general, with me in particular. I can't help think that when things turn, she'll be devastated. And M will be left to deal with it. How do you comfort a child who has sustained such deep loss? How do you comfort yourself? I know that children are tough and flexible and people are adaptable and all that. But this is my child, my husband. I'd throw myself in front of a bus to protect them from this -- oh the irony. 

     And so I don't sleep.