Tuesday morning. 12:15am.
Scratch. Scratch. Scooooot.
She wakes to hear the dogs' water bowl being pushed around the bathroom floor by an insistent Pekingese.
She tries to get her husband to stir. He doesn't wake to his name.
Sigh. It can wait until morning. Looks at the clock. 6 more hours.
She gets up and fills the bowl and watches as the little dog greedily laps it up. Heads back to bed.
Once nestled under the covers again between her children, she realizes that...
Hmm. Really thirsty. Feels like a high blood sugar. She tests her blood sugar. 98. No, she's actually just thirsty. Probably from all the breastfeeding.
The shunk of the lancet device and rustling of the meter case is enough to wake the two year old who pops her head over her mother's side.
That's weird, she thinks. She hardly ever gets juice. She never even asks for a drink after dinner.
When the last of the juice is shlurped down, the mama scoops up the child and her rubber companions and heads back to bed.
As she drifts off to sleep, the toddler speaks again.
"Night night, baby," says the mama.
Only now the mom can't sleep.
She's still thirsty?
She tries to shake the thought from her head.
It's nothing. Please. Please, let it be nothing.
She's just thirsty.