In this week’s Dispatches from New Motherhood piece Cloudi Lewis writes from her bedroom, a place that saw her suffer insomnia as a new mum, but eventually becoming a zone of peace and promise.
Cloudi says, ‘before starting my piece I made a bullet point list of all the struggles I faced in becoming a mum and thought I’d end up with a really dark negative story but somehow my writing took on a life of its own and managed to give some light to some of the parts I found most traumatic at the time such as my insomnia. I found the process very therapeutic and it helped me through my next pregnancy and birth.’
OH, SLEEP is a tender, hopeful piece about the healing power of time – enjoy it here.
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Oh, Sleep
Cloudi Lewis
I’m wide awake tonight. You’re lying sound asleep next to me and your dad is here too – snoring away. Usually I’d begrudge that he’d dropped off before me but tonight I am feeling peaceful and smile to myself as he rolls over and starts trying to engage me in his mumbling. He laughs dreamily, ‘Are you going to introduce me, then? You just introduced yourself.’ Who knows what is happening in his dream world. Tonight, I am oddly enjoying being the last one awake.
I let my mind wander and find myself back in late May 2018. You were so tiny, so dependent, so vulnerable and every fibre in my body feared this. I couldn’t sleep at all, then. Your dad and nan tried to help me by giving me blocks of time to sleep day or night, but I couldn’t rest. My whole body would shake, my arms would tingle wondering where you were, my boobs would ache and demand to be drained, my mind would see people in the shadows coming to steal you, and if I was so lucky to start to drift off I’d be back in the hospital ward in pain and confused.
I pull the covers up around us like a security blanket and snuggle into the warmth. I couldn’t hide in the duvet back then, as you’d been born into the hottest summer I can remember. At night our bedroom left me feeling like I was back in Asia walking through the stuffy markets seeking out the air con, but all we had was two useless fans that moved the hot air around. During pregnancy I had daydreams of taking you away as a baby to explore parts of the world that me and your dad had fallen in love with. That was before the reality of statutory maternity pay, cluster feeds, insomnia and panic attacks had presented themselves oh so lovingly into my life.
The house is silent now just as it could be then – except for my mind that would constantly race through a thousand thoughts all at once. I would watch over your sleeping body, checking for the rise and fall of your little chest, slowly reaching a hand close to your face just to feel your steady breath. I’m suddenly drawn out of the hectic memories by my new passenger, who likes to remind me of his presence by waving his tiny limbs around, making my stomach jiggle in strange waves just as you once did. I’m back in bed, feeling worlds away from who I was then. I roll over and nuzzle into you, taking in your sweet sweaty smell. I kiss the top of your head and place a hand on my stomach to acknowledge your little brother. There are four of us now and I’m feeling ready to do it all again.
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Oh, Sleep by Cloudi Lewis appears in the Mothership Writers anthology Dispatches from New Motherhood. All 50 pieces from the book will be published here over the year to come, creating an online library of what it really means – right here, right now – to be a new mother.