Sleeping is hard.
Sleeping is hard when one has a toddler who decides to come to our room for a visit four times a night because he’s no longer imprisoned in his crib.
Sleeping is hard when one has a newborn. (Which I don’t yet, but I can never help forecasting. Heck, I’ve already figured out that Cake will be in college and baby #2 will be finishing high school when I retire.)
Sleeping is hard when you’re not supposed to sleep on your back. Nor on your belly. And your hips are all loosey-goosey like one of those dolls that have their limbs held on with elastic.
The toddler problem has possibly solved itself this week. He stayed in his room all night for the past three nights. Possibly due to a fever he had. Possibly due to the change in sleeping arrangement while we were in New Mexico. It has been heavenly. Even the cat cooperated. We’re going to Boston this weekend, so I hope that doesn’t mess things all up again.
So you’d think I’d be well-rested. But I’ve been trying to make friends with my body pillow. It is hard to get used to sleeping with someone new, so to speak. One of the women at the pregnant lesbians group said that I can sleep almost on my back, but slightly propped up on the right side, so my whatever doesn’t get smooshed and mess up my blood-pressure. So I have a new pillow move. I run the top of the pillow under the right side of my back, and the rest goes between my knees coming from the back. This way I can lie on my left side, or on my tilty-to-the-left back.
It all seems so absurd. Almost as absurd as complete strangers knowing that I’m pregnant now.