I know you all know I’m crazy, right?

So it will be totally safe to tell you that I have been having these awful nightmares and you will accept that just as you accept that I am as nutty as a fruitcake.

Nightmares are a recent addition for me, as an adult. Sure, I had them as a kid but as an adult they were few and far between (unlike some people, who have recurring dreams about ghost cats in a haunted house - not mentioning any names, but if I said wonderhusband, you would all be smiling and nodding knowingly behind your computer screens, wouldn’t you?). 

I started having vivid dreams when I was pregnant with William and the worst part was, they came true. So, when the nightmares come the hair on my arms prickle and I sit up and take notice.

Just a little legacy from Will’s time with me.

Yeah, crazy, right?

Anyhoo, these dreams are freaky and they are about Ivy, of course.

For anyone who doesn’t know, Ivy sleeps in my bed.

She just does, ok.

I don’t like it, it’s squishy and I often ache in new and interesting places, so that I can share my space with the girl but ever since she’s been sick, I’ve stopped fighting it and just let her be. I figured, she’d become a teenager one day and not want to sleep with me anymore.

These dreams come in the small hours and they are about the girl, not breathing.

At all.

They are very graphic and detailed and in the night I get them mixed up with reality sometimes.

The prednisone keeps her temperature very low and as a consequence, she is cold to the touch, even though she is perfectly fine.

And I panic, okay?

There, I said it.

It’s scary and it’s not doing either of us any good.

Or David for that matter because I cry out and wake her and wake him and ask him to get my stethoscope just so I can listen to her little heart beating away and then I can’t get back to sleep for fear that she will, you know, just stop breathing.

I know where this is heading.

It is insomnia inducing and breakdown worthy but what I don’t know is what to do about it.

It feels crazy and yet it doesn’t.

I can break it down. I know just where all the fears are coming from. I know it has everything to do with William dying and with all of the stuff that is going on with the girl, well, it’s just me trying to protect myself because I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t survive. 

I can’t even say it.

When those fears whisper in the back of my mind I push them away, make them not so, because we all know if you don’t think about it, it will never ever happen, right?

There is some sense to it all, if that makes…sense.

So here it is; out in the universe, floating around, my sanity (or insanity, depends how you look at it) hanging by a thread.

Be kind, okay,  because I haven’t had much sleep and we all know that kind of deprivation makes a girl emotional.