Yeah, so, sleep is my friend; a friend I sorely miss.
I’ve written before about how tired I am. It’s tough to sleep when you’ve got something the size of a pineapple in your belly, and you like to sleep on your back, but you’re not supposed to sleep on your back.
Sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up on my back, and I’m trapped under the weight of this pregnant belly. I usually wake up because I’m having trouble breathing and the weight starts to hurt my back. I need to roll over, but it’s easier said than done. I’m like a turtle on its back, slowly teetering back and forth trying to roll over to my side. It’s really pathetic. I’ve been thisclose to waking up David and asking him to give me a push. Of course, all my rolling back and forth wakes him up anyway. I should just wake him up and save us both some time.
David has graciously said that after the spawn is born, and we’re all home from the hospital, he will take the first round of feeding the little guy so I can get some sleep. That’s all I’m asking for: I just want one night (or afternoon, I’m not picky) with eight hours of sleep on my back. After that, I’ll be good to go.
When I share this little bit of information with people who are parents they say, “Good luck with that. You won’t be getting any sleep,” insinuating that David isn’t going to be getting up to feed his son.
I can’t figure out if they are being sexist or just rude.
I want to snap at them, “It’s not only my responsibility to feed the spawn, you know? By the time he is born I will have been carrying him around for almost 40 weeks and not getting any good sleep. You don’t think David can handle 8 hours?” And then I throw something at them; maybe a coffee mug. Not that I’ve been fantasizing about this or anything.
Of course, parents tell me a lot of things:
- You will never go to the movies again unless it has a CGI talking animal in it.
- You will never see your friends again.
- You will never go to a bar for a drink again.
- You will never go to a restaurant for a nice dinner again.
- You will never do this again.
- You will never do that again.
I don’t know why people take such pleasure in trying to scare me or upset me. Maybe, in their minds, they think they are giving me a heads up, but they say these things with such condescending attitude that it comes across as, well, kinda mean.
I’ll never go to the movies or see my friends or go to a bar. Really? You don’t think the spawn’s grandparents would love to babysit every once in a while so David and I could go out to a nice dinner? Please! My dad already bought the kid a BB gun. He probably wants to take him target shooting immediately. Babysitting is his opportunity. You don’t think David will watch the spawn so I can go to yoga every once in a while. If David wants his wife to get her smokin’ hot yoga body back, he will.
I know plenty of parents who have gone to see non-animated movies. I’ve met my fair share of friends, who also happen to be mothers, at a bar for a drink. I have friends with babies, and I see them. I know someone who packed up their baby and went backpacking through Europe, which makes me think I could pack up the spawn and leave Glen Park for a trip to a friend’s house in the Sunset.
I told Michelle about these scare tactics, and she said that people always leave out the part about how much you don’t mind not all the things you used to do because you love your baby so much and you just love staying home with them. And then she added, “Oh, just so you know soon enough your car will be filled with useless crap and trash from your kid.”
“Well, my car is already filled with useless crap and trash from me. What’s the difference? At one point there was an empty six-pack of ginger ale cans rolling around in my car, and I keep my hardcopy Examiner archives in the trunk,” I told her.
Of course, I realize I’m not going to be living the same lifestyle I did before the spawn. My life has already changed. I already don’t go out as much as I used to. I don’t see everyone all the time anymore. I’m pregnant and tired, and after the spawn is born I will be busy with a baby and tired. But don’t tell me I won’t EVER do the things I used to. I’m not buying it.
I have a friend who is pregnant, too. She’s a few months behind me, and I’m so careful not to say assy things such as, “Oh, just you wait,” because I hate it so much when people do it to me. But when she says, “Do your hips hurt at night when you are trying to sleep?” I am more than willing to jump in a commiserate. “Yes, yes they do hurt. It sucks, right?!”
Some of my coworkers are the worst offenders, sharing horror stories about how they never sleep anymore. I get it. I won’t get as much sleep as I used to, but don’t tell me I won’t EVER get any sleep. That’s a dirty lie. [Side note: I also have another coworker who likes to tell me how big I am every day. It’s doing wonders for my self esteem.]
Dear all the parents who keeping telling me I won’t be getting any sleep after the baby is born:
I will get sleep if I take a Unisom with a red wine chaser.