Saturday, March 7, 2009

I got skillzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........

One of the number one complaints I hear about pregnancy is lack of sleep. Now, I don't want to brag, but I have a very special talent: I have always been a truly gifted, really a quite marvelous, sleeper. I get this extraordinary ability from my Dad who puts my sleeping-skills(z) to shame. (Thanks Daddy!)

I am very pleased to report that this talent has carried on into pregnancy. Here I am, 9 months pregnant, and still comfortably sleeping 8 hours a night. Like all people who have a potentially nine-pound parasite dancing on their bladders, I do get up four or five times each night to ehmm... powder my nose... but I go right back to sleep. I've also made a conscientious effort not to disturb Brake's sleep during these nighttime sojourns.

This was fairly successful until Wednesday night. Around 9:00 Brakes and I got down to business practicing our labor positions and deep-breathing (Birth Midler would be so proud!). I guess I stretched too vigorously because I was having mad Braxton Hicks contractions by bedtime. Nonetheless I fell asleep soundly and was happily snoozing along 3 hours later when all the sudden I was rudely awoken by searing pain in my left heinie. I cried out and felt frozen by the sensation. Brakes shot out of bed, turned on the light, and went into super-birth-coach-mode (it was really quite immpressive). He helped me breathe and got me into a squat position until the pain dissipated. We decided that I had either had my first painful contraction (centrally located in my fanny?) or that the baby had sat on some nerve. I took the opportunity to take a tinkle and then went right back to sleep. I assumed that if I were going into labor, another contraction would wake me up so I certainly didn't need to stay awake waiting.

Brakes, not so much. Poor guy slept the whole night with one ear cocked for the sound of water breaking. He got up Thursday morning with bluish bruises under both eyes and that half-dazed sleepy look that I secretly find endearing. He hasn't really had a decent nights sleep since then and he looks at me as if I am a gigantic ticking time-bomb waiting to go off. Kaboom.

I wish that there was something I could do to help, but I find myself unable to relate to his problem. Anyone have any suggestions? While you're thinking about it, I think I'll go take a nap...

Here is a picture of my secret weapon to great pregnancy sleep (besides my good genes and natural affinities; those can't be bought):

It is a snoogle-pillow and as you can see, Tess also finds it soothing. Maybe we need another one for Henry?

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