I fall in and out of love with night, over and over until I’m spinning in circles.

Love is because I am the only person in the world. Surrounded by darkness and silence I’m free to think, to exist, by myself.

Hate is because I am the only person in the world. Surrounded by darkness and silence I am alone, unreachable and untouchable.

I used to fear night time. Days away from a whole year ago I would sink into a heavy sleep that hit me in the face as soon as my head hit the pillow, so strong was the need. Thirty short minutes later I would wake with a start, groggy and dry mouthed, and pull my legs over to the side of the bed to reach into the crib beside the bed.

I started to resent the night time. For two weeks I breastfed every thirty minutes, without exception. It seemed alright during the day, somehow less arduous and cruel when everyone else was awake too. At night I would sit and sob at my baby while she screamed at me. I would beat myself up until an hour ticked by and she had exhausted herself and I could throw myself back into sleep for a precious thirty minutes.

Then I stopped breastfeeding. I went to bed and I didn’t get up again for three days, greedy for sleep and the freedom of personal space. At first my sleep was fitful and restless, I was ill and I would hallucinate, stuck somewhere in a world between dreams and reality. I would shout to the husband to come and get the baby because she had finished feeding, I would wake up panicked because she wasn’t in my arms so I must have dropped her. She was never there.

A few weeks later and I had fallen back in love with night again. It was the only time I had to myself and whether I was tired or not it I wasn’t willing to let it slip through my fingers. I would lay awake watching the moon from my window, listening to the snuffles of my sleeping baby, revelling in the peace.

The love affair is short lived and although I still crave the space and the time that night brings, I hate it. I hate that I can’t sleep no matter how exhausted I am or how desperately I want to. I hate that everyone else is lost in dreams while I sit alone.

Worst of all? I miss my baby. Separated from me by sleep and a magnolia wall, I miss her and I know that as soon as morning comes and she is ready to play I will be heavy eyed and thick headed, full of worry and wishing for night time all over again.