It hits at the most inopportune time. Before you go to bed after a long laborious day at work. As your feet hits the docks on your way for a boat ride. Descending the stairs to the pebbled beach. As you eat dinner with family and friends. When you’re laughing with your boss over a cat carrier. It always does. 

Barrenness has struck again.

And so, I sit listening to the wind of the fan as it tries to cool me down. I hear the heavy breathing of my husband as he has fallen into slumber. I can make out the slightly heavier breathing of my coonhound sleeping on the floor on my side of the bed. There are people still milling about as I hear a car start. It is almost 130a.

Insomnia has reared its ugly head.

I kick off the blanket trying to cool off even if it is cool outside and the fan is directly on me. I seek out my security blanket as I often do when hurt or nightmares keep me from following my husband’s sleep example. What I would do to be able to sleep, for one night, like him. For one night.

My thoughts begin to race.

Why can’t it just happen to me? No one wants to be a mother more than the woman who is childless. I have so much love to give when will it be my turn? Maybe I don’t have the love needed to be a mother to a little one. When will the pain in my heart not ache? I deserve the pain after what I’ve done. When will the hole in my life be filled? The hurt will probably consume me until I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe now.

The clock tells me to sleep.

I can hear it ticking away. Every second passes with a click clack click. I count along with it. One. Eight. Seventeen. Twenty four. Thirty five. Forty one. Fifty three. Sixty. Every minute I take a breath. Time has not healed me like it should. It has only made me realize just how much I long for what was once in my grasp.

A single tear streams down my cheek.

Every time my heart aches my Jack Russell seems to know. As soon as the first tear has begun to stream down he is there beside me to comfort me. Tonight is no different. He has jumped onto my bed with his little kisses. He jingles and whines seeking the confirmation that I am ok. But I cannot lift my hands to comfort him. Instead his love has caused more tears to fall. His loyalty and impartial love for his childless human mom is no match for my tears tonight. And so I cry.

Sleep further eludes me.

I know I must sleep for 5am will come sooner than I would like. Another early morning to start a day as the glue for my office. Do this. Do that. Change this. Change that. The actions keep me from thinking of the little box on my bookshelf that holds the last hope I had. The love. The memories. The laughter. The songs. I look at it as I lay in bed in agony. All within that box is everything I have ever wanted.

Within that box of hope.

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