Yesterday Dr. J turned 36. It was a fairly low key birthday. He went to work but got off at noon. We had turkey and left over thanksgiving food, worked on an advent calendar, and ate cake. After we went to bed though I had an impossible time falling asleep. I tend toward insomnia anyway and this last few days I've been exceptionally uncomfortable. The symptoms of my miscarriage after almost completely going away have reared back up and the emotional distress of just, "wanting to be done with this already" put me on edge. From one to four thirty I just lay next to Dr J, periods of tossing and turning punctuated by trips to the bathroom. My one saving grace was that in his sleep my husband's love for me is so evident. Even in the deepest of sleeps he reaches for me, pulling me into deep hugs, nuzzling my neck, caressing my hair. After one bathroom trip I slipped in under his arm only to have him pull me tight, reach for my hand, and start humming "Brown Eyed Girl" in his sleep. It brought tears to my eyes, to be singularily alone in my insomnia misery and yet to still be surrounded in comfort. Happy Birthday sweetheart!!! Thanks for all you do for our family. Sometimes you drive me bonkers but luckily the good times are sweeter and less far between.