Escape

I reach 31 weeks tomorrow, and my belly is growing exponentially. Dr. B went to a conference about a week ago, leaving me and Lucy and Zizou tout seul for five days. It was lonely, but I kept myself busy planning the baby's nursery, and waiting patiently for the paycheck that would allow me to begin some of our preparations. During this time Zizou flipped, moving from laying across my belly to head down, or at least sort of diagonal. This means that I am sticking out a lot more, people now ask when the baby's due rather than just scrutinizing my middle and looking puzzled until I say, "yes, I am pregnant." The bladder-punching is gone, hallelujah!

But, this also means I am dealing with lots of 'new' symptoms: the heartburn is worse, the allergies are kicking into high gear, the nosebleeds are back, I have pregnancy gingivitis (today's teeth cleaning was not pleasant), I can't sit in very many positions, I have a hard time breathing and my back has become very, very sore.

Thus, sleeping is becoming more of a torture than relief. I get tired so easily, but there is no way to get comfortable. I can't lay on my stomach for obvious reasons, if I lay on my back my leg falls asleep and I can't breathe, and if I lay on my left side a nerve in my leg spasms like I'm being whacked with a cattle prod.

Fun.

So that leaves my right side. Fine, with a body pillow and pillows between my knees, arms, under my belly, under my head and supporting my back. I'm usually good for about 20 minutes.

Then I am sore and want to move. But there is nowhere to go.

The other morning, after my 4th bathroom trip of the night, I took up residence on the click-clack, using the back for support. Dr. B saw me and thought it would be worth a try that night, hoping I would get a better sleep with a firmer mattress and more support.

I think he just wanted the whole big bed for himself.

He set me up, tucking the pillows and body pillows strategically, covering me with a down comforter, and kissing me goodnight.

And the next morning, I woke up because I had to pee. Not because I was in pain.

I went to wake him (his alarm had been shut off, but he didn't get up), and he grinned at me as he lay, spread-eagled, in the middle of the bed, hogging 4 pillows and all the blankets.

"I can see you slept well," I said, a little miffed that he wasn't terribly lonely for me in our bed, as I had been for him when he was gone (sort of, except for secretly kind of liking the extra room).

"And you," he said. "You look better."

"Yeah, I slept better last night. I'm not in pain. It's rather nice." We figured we had found a solution, at least until the baby's born. Thank God.

So last night he prepared my place once again, helped me in and arranged everything, and kissed me goodnight. "Sleep well," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I will," he said, totally seriously. "I don't sleep as well when I'm worried about you, especially I'm worried you're not comfortable. Kind of like it will be with the baby--we'll be worried that she's not comfortable and we won't sleep as well."

"Yeah, that and when I elbow you in the back when you snore," I countered.

"Yeah, well, that too," he grinned.

I drifted off to sleep, and began having very vivid dreams. In one, I was a part of some sort of group that was running from the CIA. They had found us, and we were loading our moving van as fast as possible and trying to get out of there.

Then Morgan Freeman showed up. He was a CIA agent, but for some reason he was giving me a break. We talked about things, and he was very understanding and kind. (Aside: wouldn't it be shocking if you found out he was really a jerk? He just seems like such a nice man.) He said, "You better get going if you're going to get away." "We're not ready," I said and looked around, "We don't have everything yet." He smiled and said, "You don't have time, but it's OK. Just get going." I jumped in the back of the moving van, and we prepared to leave.

The dreams continued, more in the escape vein (which, of course, I have since forgotten), and I woke up when Dr. B headed to the shower, sore and aching once again. Our strategy of pillow placement, back support and firmer mattresses had failed.

Back to the drawing board.