I mentioned (within a previous post) our recent sleep divorce. This was something facilitated by our middle daughter (also) leaving for college this fall. In anticipation of this, over the course of this past summer, the "big girls" room was transformed - via new twin beds / mattresses - from child's room to extra bedroom.
Throughout, my wife was (somewhat privately) repositioning all of this on her own behalf. Particularly when it came to the mattress purchases (they were quite luxuriously expensive).
My wife's "stroke arm" (her left arm) is often (most comfortable) extended perpendicular to her body whilst she snoozes. Hence, our queen bed doesn't necessitate this well, particularly with her 200lb husband (me) adjacent.
Hence, about a month ago (in tandem with daughter #2 leaving for college), the sleep divorce was finalized. It took me absolutely no time to adjust accordingly, though there were a few nights of eeriness as I began to imagine that Angie had stroked out for a second time and had died.
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Earlier this week, Angie announced that the sleep divorce was over. She was ready to sleep re-marry.
Why?
At first, she was sharing the room with our youngest daughter (8th grader) who was sleeping within the adjacent twin bed. But that didn't last (her snoring quickly shut this Jill & Jill setup down).
It was the aloneness that got to her. Being there within that tiny bedroom by herself.
I'm wondering, though I haven't mentioned it, if it harkened back to her weeklong May 2020 hospital stay post-stroke. Being ushered in and out of ICU a handful of times throughout that week, and being there alone (I was only allowed to visit for one hour midday, each day, due to pandemic restrictions), made a distinct impression.
So now she's back in bed with her husband. And, according to her, she's sleeping soundly.
It feels nice to provide that security to her via exceedingly close proximity.
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My oldest friend's (college) somewhat recently widowed mom began sleeping with a call-in radio broadcast playing from the adjacent pillow. She did this to honor her deceased husband's presence enough to replicate that deeply longed for feeling of husband security (her husband died in his early 90s).
Now she's found herself alone in the single-family home that they'd owned together for decades.
Women crave security. Men crave respect.
Angie feels secure. Rob feels respected. Win-win.
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