Most pregnant women will tell you that it's a cruel joke how often your body requires you to get up in the middle of the night during pregnancy. Whether it be to pee for the bazillionth time, prop yourself up into a position that will - for at least the next 30 minutes - either eliminate or reduce your heartburn, or flop about in your bed like a fish until you find a new sleeping position that won't A) crush your sweet unborn, B) cause the lower half of your body to go numb, C) eventually make all your lower joints hurt, and D) is actually comfortable. Add to all of these possible scenarios the pregnancy-induced insomnia and/or ridiculous hormone inspired dreams that baffle the brain, and it's a wonder a pregnant woman sleeps at all. Honestly, most of pregnancy - not just the loss of sleep part - is a cruel joke. At the time when you need certain things most in life - sleep, a stiff drink, an indulgent meal of delectable sushi...mmmm....sorry! I got distracted! Anyway, at the time in your life when you need those things the most, you are deprived of them for the good of your precious little baby. I reference all of these reasons above as proof that Sweet Zoe is already in on the conspiracy. Which I think is just cruel really. She'll have plenty of time after birth to deprive me of much needed, sweet, sweet slumber. I see no reason for her to get on my bad side already.
Which brings me to Nicholas. Of all parties, I think he's the least guilty. But, nevertheless, he holds some blame. Since moving to his big boy bed, he has admittedly done impressively well with the transition. However, now that he has the ability to get out of bed as soon as he wakes, there are no more mornings of playful chatter in the crib until Mommy wakes. Nope, now Mommy has to wake as soon as Nicholas does. Which turns out to be anywhere from 6 AM to 8 AM. If we land closer to 8, I'm totally fine with it. I am not, however, fine with the 6 AM wake-up call (or the random 5 AM climb into bed I received last week). I do realize that as soon as Zoe arrives, a 6 AM wake-up call may sound like heaven. But for the time being, (when Zoe is not already dictating how little I sleep each night by ravaging my body via hormones) I'd like to at least make it 7:15, thank you very much. Between the two of my kids, I feel the need to ingrain the following into their brains.
And then there's my dear, sweet, wonderful, loving husband. Oh husband of mine, how I love thee. You are my best friend, my confidante, my partner in parenthood and love and life, and....oh. my. god. how you snore! Okay, in my hubs defense, he actually spends most nights on our couch because our mattress hurts his back. So most nights, the snoring thing isn't a problem. However, the nights he and I do share a bed always seem to inevitably also be the nights that I 1) have to pee a bazillion times, 2) am awaken by either heart-burn, the need to flop like a fish, a violently kicking fetus, a ridiculous pregnancy dream, or a combination of all, and/or 3) the cat. I didn't mention the cat yet, did I? Yeah...he's in on the conspiracy too. He tends to sleep where ever the Hubs sleeps, but never WITH Jason. If Jason sleeps on the couch, the cat stays in the living room and allows me to sleep. But if Jason sleeps in the bed, guess where the cat wants to sleep? ON. MY. HEAD. Not cool, Skip. Not cool.
Anyway...I digress....So, the nights that Jason does sleep in our bed, I already have all of this going on and am having a hard enough time either getting back to sleep or staying asleep and here comes the Lumberjack, just a sawin' away. And despite my most polite, loving efforts to
So there I lay. Pregnant and kept awake by either my unborn daughter, my hateful cat, or my snoring husband. And finally, finally I start to drift off back off to something that might resemble sleep...when here comes Nicholas with his 6:00 AM wake-up call.
I swear, I think they're all against me.
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