Awake

The house is quiet. The only sounds are my pen gliding across this page and my hand scraping as it guides my pen. There is no light other than the lamp by my side. Both of my children rest comfortably in their respective beds; one with her tiny tush in the air, knees tucked up into her belly; the other on her side, one hand thrown carelessly in front of her, the other tucked neatly under her ear. Downstairs my parents sleep, two lumps beneath a host if blankets and quilts. Though I cannot hear them from my position upstairs, I know their snoring slices through the downstairs silence. So too does the snorting and snarling of their Saint Bernard, splayed across the floor at their feet. One of my parents two cats sleeps rolled in a ball of fluff on the vacant bed adjacent to mine. 

I am awake; writing to keep myself from falling asleep. I have a mere hour and a half before I have to test my daughter Lily's sugar levels for the second time this evening. Being awake is imperative.

These nights when we are either struggling with low sugar levels or high sugar levels are the hardest. My sleep is interrupted in two hour increments, which taxes my already exhausted system. I will wake up tomorrow morning feeling like I pulled an all nighter. Unfortunately, I no longer posess the energy, or the stupidity, of a twenty year old. Sixteen years and two children have taught me to cherish, not just appreciate sleep. 

It is nights like tonight when I would welcome a bout of insomnia. My worry over not waking to test Lily and having her sugar either drop dangerously low or rise dangerously high would be appeased. Insomnia not forthcoming, I sit a little straighter in bed fighting against my pillows desire to cradle my head and comfort my body to sleep.