I can only sleep on my side. At 22 weeks pregnant, sleeping on my back or stomach is no longer an option. On a semi- related side note, I am pretty sure I can claim 22 weeks, although I keep forgetting and have to ask my friend who has the same due date. I don't know why I can't keep track from week to week. It bears some similarity to my inability to remember my age ever since I turned 30. I always have to really stop and think about it, consult my husband, or subtract my birth year, which requires pen and paper for me, so I go ahead and just claim that I'm 32... Again. What's the difference between 32 and 33, really? Yes, I'm 33. Or is it 34? No, definitely 33. Maybe I'll come back to this when my husband gets home tonight... Back to my pregnancy sleep situation. It's not that I hate sleeping on my side, but to have my only options be my right or my left side just irritates me through the night. I like having options and control. Limiting sleep options must be one of God's lovely reminders that there is limited control with parenthood at times. You just have to go with it. In addition to the irritating lack of options, my legs sweat and it is understandably uncomfortable. I don't think I need to go into this. My belly is growing and my bladder is shrinking simultaneously and as soon as the second trimester hit, the task of falling asleep has become treacherous.
And so it goes, my unborn child keeps me from sleep and it seems that my other two treasures don't want to miss out on the action. Judah, age two, doesn't seem to understand that he is supposed to stay in his bed the entire night. At times he makes his way to our bed before we are able to get there ourselves. There have been multiple times we have come upstairs, thinking that our little ones have been sleeping soundly for several hours only to find that Judah has thrown our decorative pillows on the floor and neatly pulled back the covers and crawled in, on my side of the bed, of course.
The last time we came upon Judah in our bed, we beheld an unexpected sight when the covers were pulled back in order to return him to his proper sleeping place. Before the removal of the sheet, he was my sweet and beautiful, exasperating child. However, the act of pulling back the covers revealed the makings of a regular uninhibited man. He had on a t-shirt which was loosely positioned around his waste, his hands were sprawled above his head and his legs were spread revealing all his glory, for he had removed his diaper before making his way to our bed. There was nothing to do except run into the hallway stifling our laughter.
Not only can Judah magically dig the poo out of his diaper with his bare hands while leaving his clothes completely unscathed, he can climb into our bed while we are sleeping and we never hear anything. He must shimmie his way up the bed between us and slyly make his way beneath the covers. I only come to discover him when I wake to switch to my other side only to find that I cannot because of his small body pressed up against mine. I relent and continue seeking to sleep uncomfortably on my left side... Until I feel a gentle tap on the top of my head. My eyes flutter open to find deep brown eyes inches from my own. "Mommy, I had a bad dream.". What can a mother say to that? I gently scoot Judah over and I lift Keira to lay beside me. I am thankful we sprung for the King bed.
I can't blame my children entirely for my sleep deprivation. My college roommate often referred to me as the "girl who never sleeps". In those days, I was living it up late at night in the dorm lobby or drinking coffee at the Waffle House or Perkins. These days it is Words with Friends and historical, somewhat trashy, fiction novels that keep me from the bliss of sleep. Why waste those precious moments of complete quiet, save for the light, rhythmic breathing of my husband lying next to me, sleeping? This is my time.
I wake far too early even on the mornings when I could sleep a bit longer and my thoughts immediately race to the items I need to remember to add to my grocery list, the choreography of my new Zumba routine, what is needed to spice up the white walls of my new office, emails I need to send and phone calls I need to make. Just when I begin to feel the frustration of my pervasive thoughts overwhelm me, I feel a soft hand upon my shoulder, rubbing in a gentle circular motion. I roll over. "Goo mornin' Mama!"
Sleep or not, all is right in the world.
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