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The night terrors

They start at about midnight and come and go throughout the night, as I lie in my bed with a million worries and thoughts spinning through my head I pray silently that they will pass and everyone will go back to sleep. But it rarely happens and then as the night goes on I give up on sleeping and hope that the darkness will fool my body into thinking it has slept.

Then at 6am when one or other of the little girls, who have kept me up along with my thoughts throughout the night, springs into action and shouts for their mummy I take a few moments to collect myself and try and remember where I am. Because the sleep just before waking is often the deepest and hardest to shrug off. It’s like waking up in a foreign place where the walls are in different places and the bed is the wrong size.

My nights are spent between three bedrooms; stroking heads, tucking in, cuddling and shushing or fetching milk or lost soft toys. My nights are eventful but they won’t be like that forever. One day the little girls who need me so much won’t need me so very much, at least not in the raw physical way they do now.

When that time comes I wonder if I’ll look back on this blog and be grateful that I had this intensely close time with them. The time in the dead of night when the bond between mother and daughter is overwhelmingly strong and you feel like you are the only two people in the world.

I do hope so. 

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