I don’t want to go to sleep even though I need to. I don’t want to go to sleep even though I do, very much. I’m so tired. I don’t want to go to sleep even though I’m halfway there already–but I still don’t want to go to sleep because I don’t want to wake up to yet another morning without my littlest one’s sweet face looking sleepily up at my from the crook of my arm, my older daughter’s boisterous voice calling the rest of us out to come start the day, make some pancakes, pour some juice, look at the pretty dress she’s put on–something! I don’t want to fall asleep without being able to hear the quiet hymn of my daughters’ breathing, and I don’t want to wake up to another day empty of their chatter. I don’t want to go to sleep not a mother anymore and wake up not a mother still. I don’t want this anymore. What’s the safety word? Cacao? I want out. Please someone make this nightmare finally end. Give me back my little girls, don’t make me go to sleep without a kiss goodnight for mommy anymore.