Rob gets up first, and I hear the coffee machine crunching beans, such a loud sound inside our otherwise silent house. But familiar and comforting, at the same time, and I don’t even drink coffee. We’ve been in our new home for almost a year, and it’s so quiet here, unlike any other neighborhood we’ve ever lived in. I bury one ear deeper into my pillow. I had to wake Rob up twice last night to help me roll over and get my legs into a more comfortable position. We’re tired.

Scarlett is tired. She’s been having nightmares this week, her yells the sound that punctuates the night. I know there’s wind blowing outside, I can see the trees moving, but all I hear is my daughter shouting “NO!” I want to get up and go to her, but the first issue with that is, of course, that I can’t physically get out of bed on my own. The second issue is that, after a week of Rob going in and trying to calm her down, we’ve decided to try not going in. And it works. This time, she settles quickly.

Night terrors. So, at four years old, she has things that terrorize her. I could read a lot into that, but I hear it’s pretty normal, and I have enough to worry about. Unless things get weird, we’re going to assume the nightmares come with the territory of having a child. She is still sheltered from the harsher realities of ALS, for now. Read More>