
Dear 3am,
We need to break-up. It’s not me, it’s you.
I know you’re lonely, but I’m just not that into you.
Yes, we used to be friends. Back in my early 20′s we’d hang out, usually in a taxi on the way home from a night of sweaty dancing and cocktail drinking. And then I slipped back into the comfort of my bed, and you were gone. Just like that.
And then there was that time I was pregnant with Lacey, and we met quite often. There was that bird that insisted on chirping all night long. I didn’t sleep much, so you and I would hang out watching Rob Mills and his quiz show {really mediocre TV} waiting for morning to come. I know you were meeting with the guy in the apartment upstairs too. I heard him go out onto his balcony and yell in frustration, “Shut up!” He was saying what I was thinking.
And now you’re back. Almost always 3am. Sometimes 2:55am. Never enjoyable. Sleep never follows after we meet. I toss and turn hoping for it, but it never returns.
I know we’ll meet again when the baby is here, but for now… I want to break-up.
Remember, it’s not me. It’s most definitely you.
Regards,
Chantelle.
P.S. Any tips for surviving pregnancy insomnia will be gratefully received. x





























