September 24, 2012


Two months into marriage, I wondered if I'd ever have a full night's sleep again.  Not having lived together before we got married, both of us had an adjustment period of sorts as we learned to live - and, yes, sleep - with one another.  At some point nearly every night I was awakened by either a slumberous slap or elbow to the head.  If it wasn't that, it was his tossing and turning or the way he breathed in his sleep that kept my sleep at bay.  While every sleepless moment was completely worth it just to lay beside him, my sanity was beginning to wane.


I got exactly 2.33 hours of sleep last night.  I know, because I was completely unsuccessful in avoiding eye contact with the mocking clock - ticking off the moments until I had to wake and face an already-full day.  Suddenly, alone in my sterile hotel room, I was painfully aware of the absence of that familiar cadence of his breathing that lulls me to sleep each night.  The cold, still, empty left side of the bed was suddenly cavernously obvious.   I tossed and turned fitfully, willing sleep to come.  The only answer I got was the beep of the clock, reminding me that I was now one hour closer to dawn.


One night those newlywed sleepless nights ended.  I don't know when, for it certainly didn't announce itself; but one day I simply woke up and realized it had been a restful night, then a week of restful nights. And now, it seems, I just can't sleep without him.


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