So...Freakin'...Tired...
So help me Jesus, if I read one more cutesy little blurb about how all these pregnancy-related sleepless nights are just "preparing me for life with a new baby!", I'm going to fucking kill someone.
It ain't fucking cute, yo.
I've written about my lifelong issues with insomnia before. It's no secret that I just don't sleep worth a damn, whether I'm pregnant or not. But I was doing pretty well there for a while. First with the aid of Ambien, then Rozerem, whose after-effects lasted me long after the prescription ran out (and I was too broke to refill it). Then with the first trimester, when barfing constantly made me physically exhausted. Then the second trimester, when life in general made me physically (and mentally) exhausted. Now I'm knock-knock-knocking on the third trimester door, and my ability to get my snooze on has shriveled up and died.
There's my bladder, upon which Moosebaby is applying obscene amounts of pressure. Meaning every 15 minutes or so I feel like I have to piss like a racehorse, only to produce the equivalent of a shot glass.
There's my nose. Pregnancy throws my allergies into overdrive, meaning I've been a die-hard Afrin junkie since November. It's not as bad as it could be (at the height of her own addiction, my mother was using every 30 minutes or so and couldn't even smell bacon while she was cooking it). I only use every 6-8 hours and my sense of smell is still quite functional. Unfortunately, it seems like that 6-8 hours ends sometime in the middle of the night, meaning I wake up with one or both nostrils completely out of order. So I have to stumble to the bathroom (or around the house to find the place I last used the miracle spray) and sit on the toilet, where I empty my poor overtaxed bladder and wait for the foul stuff to work its magic on my nasal passages. Of course, my upright position and newly shrunken nasal membranes leads to an onslaught of sneezing and nose-blowing that takes another good 10 minutes to work through. By the time it's all said and done, I'm wide awake. And pissed.
There's the obvious state of things, keeping my brain working overtime, long into the night, worrying about this, planning that, wondering if I remembered to write that down or send this email.
There's Moosebaby, who is apparently afraid I might forget about him if he doesn't beat the ever-loving shit out of my innards every 20 minutes or so.
There are my fucking cats, who have taken to sitting at the top of the stairs and meowing incessantly for someone to let them out, usually resulting in my beating the shit out of them with a pillow until they stop (only to re-start 20 minutes later).
There are the freaky dreams--last night featuring the Flavor of Love Girls, Third (current) Season. Not even fun dreams, just more of them bitching about each other, just like on the damn show. Isn't it enough that I suffered through the first broadcast? Must I replay it in my REM sleep?
There's the twitching and itching and general inability to find a comfortable position. Which is typically accompanied by the profuse sweating which I haven't quite figured out.
Seems the only time I'm really able to sleep is, well, when it's time to get up. Or at work. Neither of which are really good options.
I need a fucking nap.
It ain't fucking cute, yo.
I've written about my lifelong issues with insomnia before. It's no secret that I just don't sleep worth a damn, whether I'm pregnant or not. But I was doing pretty well there for a while. First with the aid of Ambien, then Rozerem, whose after-effects lasted me long after the prescription ran out (and I was too broke to refill it). Then with the first trimester, when barfing constantly made me physically exhausted. Then the second trimester, when life in general made me physically (and mentally) exhausted. Now I'm knock-knock-knocking on the third trimester door, and my ability to get my snooze on has shriveled up and died.
There's my bladder, upon which Moosebaby is applying obscene amounts of pressure. Meaning every 15 minutes or so I feel like I have to piss like a racehorse, only to produce the equivalent of a shot glass.
There's my nose. Pregnancy throws my allergies into overdrive, meaning I've been a die-hard Afrin junkie since November. It's not as bad as it could be (at the height of her own addiction, my mother was using every 30 minutes or so and couldn't even smell bacon while she was cooking it). I only use every 6-8 hours and my sense of smell is still quite functional. Unfortunately, it seems like that 6-8 hours ends sometime in the middle of the night, meaning I wake up with one or both nostrils completely out of order. So I have to stumble to the bathroom (or around the house to find the place I last used the miracle spray) and sit on the toilet, where I empty my poor overtaxed bladder and wait for the foul stuff to work its magic on my nasal passages. Of course, my upright position and newly shrunken nasal membranes leads to an onslaught of sneezing and nose-blowing that takes another good 10 minutes to work through. By the time it's all said and done, I'm wide awake. And pissed.
There's the obvious state of things, keeping my brain working overtime, long into the night, worrying about this, planning that, wondering if I remembered to write that down or send this email.
There's Moosebaby, who is apparently afraid I might forget about him if he doesn't beat the ever-loving shit out of my innards every 20 minutes or so.
There are my fucking cats, who have taken to sitting at the top of the stairs and meowing incessantly for someone to let them out, usually resulting in my beating the shit out of them with a pillow until they stop (only to re-start 20 minutes later).
There are the freaky dreams--last night featuring the Flavor of Love Girls, Third (current) Season. Not even fun dreams, just more of them bitching about each other, just like on the damn show. Isn't it enough that I suffered through the first broadcast? Must I replay it in my REM sleep?
There's the twitching and itching and general inability to find a comfortable position. Which is typically accompanied by the profuse sweating which I haven't quite figured out.
Seems the only time I'm really able to sleep is, well, when it's time to get up. Or at work. Neither of which are really good options.
I need a fucking nap.
posted by Mitzi Green at 11:17 AM
5 Comments:
Fellow insomniac here. I feel your pain.
Have you tried Flonase for your nose? It's very effective and does not have addictive properties. My husband got hooked on Afrin baaaaaaaaaaaaad and it took an act of God to get that monkey off his back. The doc gave him some Flonase and it's much better.
Feel better soon.
Agh, I used to have these wild sex dreams about my very unsexy former boss when I was pregnant. Not pretty.
Hope you get some rest soon.
No sleep is bad enough, but sleeping with a boulder hanging off you is just nature's cruel joke. I hope you manage to get some good sleep soon.
Oh I can so relate. My worst insomnia started about the day I found I was pregnant the second time. She is 4.5 and I am now just starting to get some sleep again. Nothing cute about it at all!
Another insomniac here. It sucks. Hope you get some much needed rest soon.
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