Insomnia is back.
I’ve always struggled with insomnia – I remember being a little kid and crying at night because I was so tired and just couldn’t sleep. I would lay awake until one thirty in the morning, trying to keep myself occupied by remembering every song I knew, mentally going through every second of the Lion King starting from the opening credits, reciting poetry in my head…
That disappeared with pregnancy. I was going to sleep BEFORE Perfect Husband, at ten o clock at night or sometimes even earlier, and he was all like “Who are you, and what have you done with my wife??”
But it’s back now.
It’s becoming less comfortable to sleep. It’s not a blatant discomfort – I’m not in pain or anything – but I notice it. It’s harder to breath, and harder just to get settled. My belly only feels heavy when I’m lying down. It seems to affect the pull of gravity on my body, and I am beginning to feel like the world’s worst constructed Weeble. I toss and I turn, trying to get comfy, constantly being pulled face down by the weight in my midsection. The pregnancy doesn’t feel uncomfortable – when people ask if I’m getting uncomfortable I say “no, not at all” because except when I try and bend at the waist, I feel pretty normal. But sleeping just isn’t happening.
And when I do nod off I’m having crazy dreams. Last night, in between restless awakenings, I went for pizza with friends but we had difficulty in paying the bill, then I had one of my other friends sleep over like when we were kids and I took the fetus out to show him to her but he looked like a baby sea turtle. Then I went to stay with some crazy Jenny McCarthy type man who wrote a whole book about how your child isn’t developmentally delayed (except he used the word “tard” in his book) – you’re just not trying hard enough. He had a large family one of which was clearly a developmentally delayed young man whom he put tremendous amounts of pressure on to memorize things that he didn’t really understand, so he could show off for the video cameras how “cured” he was. I began to raise objections, and developed a friendship with the developmentally delayed son, and the guy decided to murder me. So I contacted Perfect Husband secretly and snuck out of the house, cleverly meeting him at a brothel disguised as one of the workers (clearly I was not pregnant in this dream). He was all bemused because he didn’t know what was going on, but was clearly like “if Carol wants to dress up like a prostitute and meet me at a brothel, I’ll play that game…” When I got him into a room alone, I was about to explain about the crazy man and his wanting to kill me when crazy man burst in, all “AHA!” and we spent the rest of my tossy-turny night trying to escape from the guy.
I feel like I got no sleep at all, but I’m avoiding sleeping in because that can only make things worse.
At least I got a prenatal massage today. Maybe it’ll relax me into sleepy blissfulness tonight. My massage therapist, by the way, was fascinated by the concept of a diaper service which apparently she had never heard of before, and thought it was the most amazing idea ever.