1. Here she was. My favourite picture of us- a very skilled balancing act of 🚬🍷👶🏻 2. My mum wrote a little poem for my birthday one year after I left home and she was struggling to sleep as for once I wasn’t disturbing her for something or another: Sleep Disturbance It begins in the womb Waving, kicking and hiccuping inside, Labouring from dusk till dawn, Agonising cries of acid pain, Wanting it to stop, but anxious when it does. Sore gums, ears, burning cheeks, tummy bugs and childhood ills. Peaceful in my bed, breathing softly on my face. I lay statue still and tense, for fear of disturbing. Anger and tantrums for a lost toy or something. Over- excitement for Christmas and birthdays, Noisy sleepovers at home and away. Waiting up for late returns, early starts for school trips. Headaches, heartaches, fall outs and cramps, Hot limbs carelessly pinning me down, Falling loudly through the door at ungodly hours, Bright lights, blaring music, singing and laughter. Texts and calls at silly o’clock- Lost keys and friends who need a bed. But these nights, just nightmares, night sweats. The wind, the rain and eerie snow light. A purring cat, the dog digging her way under the duvet, An open book falling to the floor, And the worry. Always the worry. Are they happy? Are they safe and well? Did I do a rotten job? So now, no matter the hour, whatever the need, Wake me up and break my sleep again.