Yeah, so, I am tired.
I’m not talking about “oh, I need an extra hour of sleep” tired or “I stayed up really late” tired. I’m talking about full-on “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months” tired.
It’s difficult to sleep when you have a basketball where your belly should be and something the size of a butternut squash that loves to dance on your bladder, making you get up every two hours to pee in the middle of the night. Also, I was a back sleeper, which I haven’t been able to do for a while now.
Oh, and here’s a nifty little pregnancy thing I didn’t know. According to Baby Center, “Higher amounts of estrogen during pregnancy can contribute to swelling in the mucous membranes lining the nose.” Translated: I’ve started snoring.
So now here’s what David sees when he comes to bed:
I have two full-body pillows on the bed: one supports my back, the other supports my belly. It’s like I’ve put up a wall in our bed. I might as well put a moat around myself and dare David to cross it. I have a Breathe Right strip across my nose. AND, because I tend to sleep with my eyes open sometimes, I put this ointment in my eyes at night so they won’t dry out.
I know what you are thinking, “David is so lucky! That’s so hot!”
So, yeah, I’m really tired. I walk around most days in a daze. I have this kinda drugged out, far away look about me. I move in slow motion. By the end of the day, I’m almost completely useless. I sit on the couch with my swollen feet up and watch TV. David sits next to me and listens to my inane chatter; the kind of random, incomprehensible stuff that people say when they are talking in their sleep.
Me: “They think I’m crazy, but I know better. It is not I who am crazy. It is I who am mad! Didn’t you hear ’em? Didn’t you see the crowds?”
David: “OK, Sonia, just watch your TV shows. Look, ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ is on. You like ‘So You Think You Can Dance.”
Me: “You covet my ice cream bar! You can’t take it away from me. I’ve had this ice cream bar since I was a child … Oh, look, they’re dancing.”
This lack of good sleep has made me clumsier than usual. David is constantly asking me, “Are you OK?” because I’m always dropping things or banging into furniture. Last week, he refused to let me cut my own bagel because he was convinced I was going to cut off my thumb.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention how forgetful I am. For example, this week I went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I took out the old filter, put in a new filter and walked away. No coffee. No water. Didn’t even turn on the coffee maker. Then 15 minutes later I wondered why I couldn’t smell the coffee brewing. And let us not forget the night I “misplaced” my car.
And, because I’m so pooped, I’m constantly worried that the filter in my brain is going to stop working. I’m going to start saying every stupid or mean thing that pops into my head. (I bet you thought I did that already, huh? Oh, you stupid naïve sucker.) Good buddy Kate says she can’t wait for this happen. Apparently, Sonia: Unfiltered is something that she’s dying to see.
Sure, it might be funny to watch Sonia: Unfiltered go off on someone who deserves it, say someone who texts during a movie in the theater. It might be less fun to watch Sonia: Unfiltered turn into the office asshole and saying things such as “Well, that’s a stupid idea. Anyone in this meeting have an idea that’s not stupid.”
Coworker: “Sonia, will you help me with …”
Me [covered in cookie crumbs]: “Do your own work! Get out of my cube NOW!
Coworker: “Are you OK?”
Me [devouring an entire pie]: “Look away! I’m hideous!”
David has promised me one night of solid sleep after the spawn is born. Hopefully, this will help me get back to my usual clumsy, forgetful, assy self and not this super clumsy, super forgetful and super assy version.