My Granny once told me that if she ever wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, she repeats the words ‘don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think’ over and over again in her head until she’s been to the toilet and back because, she told me sagely, ‘if you start thinking, you’ll never get back to sleep.’
This is probably one of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever been given. Ever since she imbibed this little pearl of wisdom years ago I’ve used it, and it works a treat. I have no doubt following this ritual has saved me from much tossing and turning and many sleepless nights.
That is, it worked a treat until this week. In a few hours I will get on a plane and stay away for two nights without BB. The horrors that could unfold have been plaguing me all week (what if the plane crashes, what if BB thinks we’ve abandoned her and is scarred for life, etc, etc) and the possibilities have been even worse in the small hours.
Only time will tell how the weekend actually pans out. As BB’s godmother said to me in a text when we were both in labour at the same time: speak to you on the other side.