Diary of a Crazy Pregnant Woman, part two

I'll admit it.

I'm a bit of a quirky sleeper when I'm not pregnant. The room has to be silent, except for the white noise generator. The room must be comfortably cool, preferably with a ceiling fan, and absolutely dark.

All that still applies, but it's worse now that I'm gestating. Much worse.

I now require a body pillow. This is not entirely new, as I had to have one when I was pregnant with Emma many years ago. In fact, body pillow (bp, for short) is the reason Jason and I ended up buying a king-sized bed. He got tired of clinging to the edge of the queen-sized bed as he propped his pillow on the nightstand.

Or something like that.

Near the end of my pregnancy with Emma, I started waking up with little bits of fabric between my toes. Soon after, I would wake up with wads of fluffy bp stuffing in my toes. Granted, I totally have monkey toes, but I did cut my nails. For some odd reason, I just shredded my poor bp in my sleep.

Jason is lucky to be alive.

So far, my new bp is healthy and shows no signs of toe-shred, but it's still early. I've still got 16 (!) more weeks to go.
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On Monday night/Tuesday morning, I got up at 1:16 to go to the restroom (more on that later) and then collapsed back into bed. I curled up with bp and fell fast asleep. At 2:06 a.m., our security system alarm went off. I sprung out of that bed like I'd been shot out of a gun. Instead of turning the alarm off at the panel in the bedroom, I flew into the kitchen to the other panel. (And really? I didn't know what was going on. For all I knew, there was someone breaking into the house. Running through the house was probably NOT my best idea.)  I stood staring at the alarm panel.  Finally, I comprehended that it said that Emma's smoke detector was going off and that the glass in the library window was broken.  I shut off the system as Jason finally emerged from the bedroom to go investigate.

Turns out, the house wasn't on fire (YAY) and no one had broken any glass (Also YAY).  Emma's smoke detector was full of dust (HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!?) and the ridiculously loud alarm from that set off the glass break alarm. 

I'm so glad we have dust alarms in this house now.  I'd hate to know that there was any undetected dust lying around.

Sheesh.

All that said, after I talked with the alarm representative and mentally apologized to our neighbors, I looked down to see that in my right arm, I was choking the life out of my poor body pillow.  I didn't even realize that I had bp with me.  I had probably carried that thing around for 10 minutes before I noticed that I even had it.

Fun times.

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I know this is probably God's way of getting me prepared for Anna Beth actually being here, but it's not my favorite thing right now.  I have to get up EVERY single night between 1:11 and 1:21 a.m. to go to the bathroom.  It never fails that I wake up and think, "Yes, I made it through the night!" only to be disappointed that it is in that magical 10-minute window that it ALWAYS  is.

So, I try to sneak steadily, stealthily, and quietly to the bathroom so that I don't wake the child in utero.  Whenever she does wake up, I am guaranteed at least 30 minutes of wiggles and hiccups on her part, that tend to keep me awake too.  Although, I suppose that if my bedroom got up and moved in the middle of the night, I probably would wake up with an ailment a lot more severe than just hiccups.

When it's not my bladder waking me up, it's the snoring.  *MY SNORING*

Me, the delicate flower who only snores when terribly, horribly sick with a deadly sinus infection.

Not anymore.

Now my snores are not the gentle, breathy wheezes of ailing sinuses.

Oh no.

They are more like the buzzing of an out-of-control chainsaw riding on a Harley with no muffler.  I wake myself up with this.  Ugh.  The snoring leads to dry throat, which leads to drinking water, which leads to more bathroom trips.  Awesome.

When it's not the bladder or the snoring that wakes me, it's the leg cramps.  I had leg cramps in my other pregnancies, but these are new and improved.  These are so bad that I wake up begging Jesus to come and get me.  These are so bad, that I know if I had a sharp object on my nightstand, I would self-amputate to escape the pain.  Also awesome.

Finally, if all the other fun nighttime adventures were not enough to keep me sleep-deprived, I have the crazy pregnant woman dreams to keep me occupied.  If we've met (or not, even, Ty Pennington), chances are you've played a role in one of my dreams.  I don't have happy dreams of romance and fun, oh no.  Mine are always someone is missing, someone is dead, or a-mystery-has-to-be-solved-nightmares.  Maybe I need to cut down on the "CSIs" before bedtime or something.

I think I need a nap.