Last night Mr. and I went to our very first Childbirth Preparation class–You know, that class where they try to teach Mr. how to keep the laboring me from mentally and physically abusing him until he cries. I think he learned a lot.
During the class introduction every woman but me listed “trouble sleeping” as a pregnancy related thing they could do without. By the time everyone had made their introduction I found myself thinking, “I’m so glad I don’t have that problem!” If I’d known that it was necessary to knock on wood for thoughts and not just statements then I would have immediately run outside and started pounding on every tree trunk in sight.
Consequently, the ten hours immediately following my ignorant slip-up went something like this:
9:45pm–We arrive home from class. I eat a bowl of cereal, wash my face, and go to bed on my left side with a cornucopia of pillows for support.
10:15pm–I get up to go to the bathroom and return to lay on my other side.
10:30pm–I get up to go to the bathroom…again, and then move back to my original “sleeping position.”
10:45pm–I get up to go to the bathroom yet again, return to bed to roll over three or four times before I decide that I’m just hot, throw off all the blankets, and give up trying to get comfortable.
11:15pm–I get up, go to the bathroom, move my mountain of pillows around hoping to find a magical position, and request a cheese sandwich and a chocolate milk.
11:45pm–After eating, I’m back in the bathroom.
11:46pm to 1:00am–I lay on my left side staring at the darkness through the crack in the vertical blinds. Mr. finally comes to bed and while I’m dwelling on whether or not my hands and feet are swollen I doze off.
3:04am–I’m suddenly wide awake. I make my way back to the bathroom, and once back in bed I wonder what I ate that made me so thirsty and drink two glasses of water. I spend the next 20 minutes planning the appointments I’ll make as soon as Peanut is born–chiropractor, masseuse, dentist, hair stylist, pedicure/manicure/facial, 2 weeks of private postpartum yoga goodness…The list grows the longer I think about it.
3:25am–I finally get back to sleep again.
4:40am–I wake up abruptly, regret drinking that extra water, and go back to the bathroom. It’s thundering outside and the birds have already begun singing. I have the overwhelming urge to murder every noisemaking bird on the planet.
4:40am to 5:30am–I lay awake watching through the crack in the blinds as the side of the house gets lighter and lighter. I wonder if I should try to do something productive but I’m cold so instead I just pull the blanket back up.
5:30am–The heartburn begins. I readjust my many pillows so that I can lay at an incline but, can’t get comfortable like that, so try to lay at the same incline while leaning slightly to the right. From this position I spend 10 minutes trying to ignore Mr.’s breath as he rhythmically blows it right into my face. I finally turn to the left and count baby movements while I wait for an appropriate time to ask for breakfast.
6:30am–I roll over and with what seems like way too much effort I squirm my way over to wake Mr. and ask for some oatmeal. He sits up and (without a single grumble about his limited 5 1/2 hours of sleep) brings me a bowl of oatmeal, a package of blueberries, and a glass of apple juice. I go back to the bathroom.
6:50am–I lay back down and try to sleep again.
7:10am–Half the apple juice I just drank comes back up in a burp. Am I growing an infant or becoming one?
7:30am–I give up any fantasy I may have been having about sleep and get in the shower.
We’re both hoping this doesn’t continue.
Coming soon: A Belly Photo
~Mrs.