Insomnia is the loneliest thing I've ever experienced.
It's plagued me right through this pregnancy, back to even before I found out that this little being was inside me. And here we are, due date this weekend, and it's still getting me.
It isn't just the being awake that's hard. It's the being awake while feeling completely exhausted, with the mind whirring around and eyes refusing to shut. It's the insane emotions that hit during the night, devoid of any rationality, and with no one to talk to.
The only thing that changes is the time.
Last night it was 12.30 - an early one. I'm pretty sure there's no air left in this house, that I won't be able to breathe if I lie here a minute longer. I get up, go to the loo, then turn on the cooling fan. At least that's the breathing side of things taken care of.
Then I go back to bed. But that's ambitious. I lie there for a while, flicking around on social media, playing a few games of sudoku on my phone, hoping that staring at numbers 1 to 9 repeatedly will flood out all the words in my head. I can't read a book; I can't stand the thought of someone else's story taking over me right now.
I'm restless, so I get up after an hour. Head to the computer. I'm so bored and I contemplate watching TV, but that seems boring too. Then I spend the next half an hour seriously thinking about either doing housework or going out for a walk. In the end I do some housework.
And then I give in to it all. I stop trying to be logical, stop telling myself I'm an idiot for feeling like this. I sit in the dining room, sobbing.
Because last night I woke once again to the realisation that I wasn't in labour, that it's another night the baby won't arrive. I panicked that my obstetrician is away over the weekend, then that it might all happen next week and I'll have to turn up at Abbey's term-time activities to face the "You're STILL pregnant?!" comments. It isn't even the due date yet, but I was so convinced it was going to happen early that it all seems so upsetting - in the middle of the night, that is, when every emotion is huger and realer than ever.
It's all getting in my head. I'm thinking too much about the when.
I want to yell and scream at someone. I want to have someone to blame for... something.
I want to be looked after. I want to wake Steve and have him wipe away my tears, stroke my hair and rub my back and tell me everything will be okay, until I fall asleep again. I want to lie next to my girl and have big, sleepy cuddles.
Instead I move to another room and try to keep my sobs as quiet as possible so I don't wake anyone.
I really think it's the best way to deal with things: have a cry, get it out, and feel sorry for yourself for a bit. Because after that I was able to feel at peace enough to go back to bed. And then I tried to think of all the good things about this situation - but I could only think of one.
I've been able to grow two healthy babies inside me over the last few years, both to full-term without any medical concerns at all. This baby right now is gaining strength, getting healthier with every day that passes.
Nothing else beats that.
Sleep drifts back to me.