It's 3 a.m., and I'm wide awake, tossing and turning like it's my own signature dance move, all to the tune of grief and fear. Back and forth I spin on the deep gray sheets that prove there is no thread count that can stop my midnight moves. That tune is just too loud. 

The silver lining to my tosses and turns is that I'm already awake when my youngest daughter starts crying from her crib down the hall. I feel wholly unqualified to be her mom, especially now. I want someone a little bit older and a lot bit wiser to emerge from thin air and tell me what to do to best solve both my problems and my daughter's. But there is no thin air—not tonight anyway. It's thick with overwhelm I have to wade through to tend to my weeping child. Continue reading "Toss and Turn"