Sweet Dreams?

Bedtime used to be a magical time for me.  It was the time when the relief of head on pillow meant a restful night spent in the sweet release of my dreams.  Snuggled into the crook of my husband’s arm I spent the night being untethered by earthly bounds like gravity, fashion, disappointments or whatever.    To put it quite simply, I love bedtime!  I found this poem that reflects how I used to feel about bedtime.

Dream with me

Author: unknown

Dream with me

Dream with me

Cuddle up asleep

Bedtime is a magical time

Dream with me asleep

Notice the key word, USED to.  My once magical bedtime routine has turned into something more of a nightmare.  Now when I go to bed I amble through my routine with a sore pelvis and slightly puffy feet, hands and face.  I dig like a mad woman through my clothes to find comfortable (not too hot) pj’s that still fit and then proceed through the acrobatics required to change clothes these days.  I then kick the dog off his usual resting spot at the foot of the bed…. though my internal body temperature may feel fine now, I know that any amount of cuddling will cause it rapidly shoot up to what feels like the temperature of explosive hot lava.  Once ample room has been secured, I crawl into bed and begin carefully constructing the necessary pillow architecture around me to sleep.  Pillows are situated under every curve and crook of my body to support me and avoid the achy breathlessness I feel when laying down unsupported.  Now instead of snuggling into the crook of my husband’s arm I groan and flop down into my carefully constructed nest to sleep.  Dear husband crawls gingerly into bed, and leans over my substantial barrier to give me a peck goodnight and then migrates to “his side” of the bed.

I am comfortable for approximately 10 minutes, and then I get an ache.  If I ignore the ache, it grows and grows and grows until suddenly some part of my body is virtually audibly shouting at me to TURN OVER!  This is much easier said than done.  Currently my attempts at flipping over take several tries and when executed closely resemble a beached whale frantically thrashing around in our bed.  This state of affairs continues on, interrupted by frequent trips to the bathroom throughout the entire night until it becomes impossible to sleep.  The transition from attempting to sleep to knowing sleep is impossible happens because apparently sleeping has become such a chore for me that it causes me to become RAVENOUSLY hungry by approximately 4:30 am, which in turn causes the baby to pitch a fit in my belly..... sleep is now impossible. 

Needless to say this insomnia has affected my mental faculties during the day. I have found that though I begin each day bursting with excitement and anticipation and an ambitious “to-do" list, somewhere around mid afternoon I completely run out of steam and end up crash landing somewhere around the house for a nap.  I don’t really like naps; I consider them to be the ultimate waste of time (can you tell that I have definitely inherited the western culture’s sense of urgency?) 

I am frustrated by the current state of affairs, so I have rewritten the aforementioned poem, to better suit my new attitude toward bedtime which I fear will not end even after I am no longer pregnant as this means I will then be the mother of a helpless little infant….sigh.

DREAM WITH ME?

-Paula Hart

Longing to Dream

Longing to Dream

Yearning to cuddle up asleep

Bedtime is an exasperating time

Sleeping is a luxury.

Longing to dream, asleep