I'm lying in bed, insomnia hitting again after a couple of weeks of full nights' sleeping. I'm not anxious about it or worried that I won't fall back to sleep. I'm not lonely, like the song says - I'm kind of enjoying the silence, in a weird way.
But I am crying. Just quietly.
I've been so relaxed of late, so calm and even. Not pushing things, just letting life happen.
But I fall back to my natural state of worry so easily. And right now, I'm uncertain.
Worried about this little baby inside me. What if I'm not as good a mum to him/her as I want to be? What if I can't - god, how do you even say this? - love it as much as I do my Abbey? How do I find something in myself that can do this all again?
How do I stop comparing, already, and feeling disappointed that I'm not enjoying this pregnancy as much? How do I move from that benchmark set by my first experience at this: the baby who gave me such an amazing introduction to motherhood.
How do I make sure I don't fall again?
Do I have the strength to do this?
How do I stop doubting myself?
I don't know.
But if I've learnt anything at all over the last few years, it's to take things one step at a time. Breathe. Try to slow my mind.
And so, I'm going to fall asleep, exhausted with emotion now. I'm going to be woken in a few hours by a certain three-year-old's cuddles and smiles, and I'll say a good morning to my littlest one who I love and want so much.
Sometimes that's enough.
Life happens. I just need to let it do it's thing, and let the worry go.
6am: Actually I didn't fall back asleep. Strangely, the silence I was savouring a few hours ago is gone. The noise in my head, Steve snoring (he never snores, why now?!) - it's all so loud I can't sleep through it.
I'm up. My day has begun, not quite as I thought it would, but it's here all the same.
One step at a time.
Today will be a gentle day.