Sleep...I miss sleep....

Something you should know about me: when I was in high school and college, I was an Olympic-worthy sleeper. And we're talking gold medal caliber, not just that I made the team. I could easily sleep until 11:00 am, and often until noon. My bedroom was on the side of the house that stayed dark latest into the day, and it was right above the vent, so it was always either nice and chilly in the summer, or warm and cozy in the winter. Prime sleeping conditions. It didn't hurt that my mom also enabled me, reminding my family to be quiet, as "Po is sleeping!" Never mind that I'd been doing so for the last 10+ hours and it was nearly lunchtime. When I would finally waltz into the kitchen, my dad would always ask me, "Did it hurt?" (Meaning did it hurt when I woke up. A variation of what he'd ask when we fell of our bikes - "Is the sidewalk hurt?") Getting me to wake up in time for school was nothing short of a miracle. My dad would come in and wake me up on his way to the hospital; my alarm would bleep at me; my high school boyfriend would call me; finally, my mom would drag me out and I'd stumble into the shower. Post-college, when I lived in Broad Ripple with Emily, she told me several times she actually felt sorry for me because I looked like I was in physical pain in the morning as I zombie-walked to the shower. So - you get the idea. Sleep and I go together like peanut butter and jelly. We used to be best friends.

Cookie and I starting week 18.

Well. As you might imagine, now that we're kicking off Week 18 of incubating our Cookie, sleep doesn't come quite so readily. Sleep is something I think about a lot these days. Mainly, how to get a better, uninterrupted night of it. Between getting up to go to the bathroom, back aches, and trying to not sleep on my back or right side, a quality night's sleep has begun to elude us here at the Blythe house.

I am usually in bed by 8:30 with a book or magazines; I try to be off of all devices by 9:00, and lights out by 9:30. Pre-Cookie I would sleep straight through until 6:45 am. Those are days I remember fondly. Now, there are the bathroom trips; always the bathroom trips. If you've been reading my previous posts, I drink about a gallon of water in an attempt to wash the pre-natal down quickly. Strike number one. I go to the bathroom right before I fall asleep but I inevitably have to get up at least twice a night, regardless of how I try to time things. And it's rare that I fall straight back to sleep after getting up. When this happens, I want JBB to know. If I can't sleep, it's only fair he can't. This baby is half his, after all. Last week, when I couldn't sleep, I dramatically sighed, harrumphed, and floundered about in an attempt wake him up. I'm not proud of this. As he continued to sleep like a log, I indignantly sat up, poked him, and announced in a strident voice, "JBB!! I can't sleep." "Okay," he said, as he continued to sleep while rubbing my head at the same time. I begrudgingly laid there, jealous of his sleeping prowess. He apparently doesn't have the same issues I do. He also pops out of bed at the first tinkling sound of his alarm and skips into the shower. He doesn't even know how to work his snooze button. He is a magical sleep unicorn.

Then there is the act of trying to sleep on the left side of my body, which is apparently the way you're supposed to sleep once you're past 4 months. I sent JBB my "Gerber weekly email update" with this information in it, and came home that very night to find our nightstands and pillows switched so that I could still sleep on my left side and be the little spoon at the same time. (Have I mentioned how sweet my husband is?) Apparently, I am not a natural left-sider. I always end up rolling over in my sleep; JBB then rolls me back over, and this goes on throughout the night. He says he's going to make me a kick-stand; until that kick-stand arrives, we've added a new addition to our bed. Bill the Pill(ow). Mom and I picked up the body pillow at Target, thinking it would help with my back. It's main purpose has turned out to serve as the Berlin wall between JBB and I, and act as my "kick-stand" to keep me from rolling over. (JBB also says it serves as a great toot guard. Too much information? I can't help it. I'm pregnant. Side effect). The pillow is giant, and I typically end up throwing it on the floor in the middle of the night, and then almost trip on it during one of my many trips to the loo.

The other man in my life. Bill the Pill(ow).

As you can see, the nights aren't the most restful. I can't wait until the leg cramps kick in. And here is the kicker - I always seem to fall asleep the hardest and soundest about 5:30 am - just in time to have to wake up in 90 minutes. Grr!!! On the bright side, I guess I can view this as preparation for when Cookie comes - I know we won't be getting any sleep then! Might as well get used to it. And dream of those 12 hour nights.

All snuggled in for a good night's sleep.

Signing off...I'm sleepy.

A picture is worth a thousand words...and a good laugh!

Cookie is 15.5 weeks today, and sends a hello! She (he?) is being a very good baby and I feel the best I've felt since before I got pregnant. I think JBB is happy to have his wife back, and to hand over some of the dinner and household chores. (Laundry is still all his, by the way.) We are slowly plodding through our to-do list - we've both gotten our flu shots, we have a car seat and base, crib, bassinet, stroller, baby bath tub and awesome diaper bag! (Thanks Whale of a Sale and assorted family and friends!) Next up: finding a pediatrician and signing up for baby classes.

Before I share some HILARIOUS pictures of Cookie's parent's misspent and fashion challenged youths, a note from JBB:

Unexpected items for the expectant Father while expecting:

Yesterday Bertie aka Po aka Lindsay and I had our third doctor’s appointment. Everything went very smoothly and Cookie is still baking away. Still a little doughy, just needs a few more months in the oven. While waiting in the room for the doctor to come in, I decided to take a look around the little room and I found the cheat sheet wheel-thing they use to determine important dates during the pregnancy. So using my great doctor skills I've learned from watching House, MASH, and the Doctor Oz Show, I have unequivocally, without a doubt, estimated the size of Cookie right now. Cookie is now 60lb and 12 inches long!! Granted a little bigger than we were hoping and appears to be a little short, but I’m confident that I can work a circle cheat sheet wheel-thing and I stand by my results.  Bertie has zero trepidation of birthing a person the size of a loaf of bread made of lead. What a person!! That is why I love her. jbb

Digging into the photo vaults:
If Cookie is a boy, I hope he gets his daddy's good looks:

How could anyone have ever gotten mad at that sweet face??

And if Cookie is a girl, maybe she'll look like her mama:

Hey everybody! What's up? 

Either way, I hope he or she has better vision than the parents:

Attack of the face-eating glasses!!

Self-tinting? Nope - just bitchin' glasses...

 And, here's hoping our kid has better fashion sense than we did:

Check out that mullet! (Bonus points for matching senior prom date Missy Owen's outfit).

Side ponies never go out of style!

 Cookie, we can't wait to meet you...finish up baking in there and we'll be ready!

Save some time to dream...

I have always been a bit of a wild dreamer - and I mean that literally, not figuratively. As in I have the most bizarre, life-like dreams that always take a second to shake as I wake up. I have to remind myself that I'm not in fact on the set of Real Housewives of Miami while Andy Cohen talks to my stomach. (Had that one last night after reading his memoir before bed. I was kind of sad that it was just a dream because how AWESOME would that be?)

Now that I'm pregnant, those dreams have gotten even crazier, and, more frequent. JBB probably hears "I've got to tell you about the dream I had last night!" almost as much as he hears, "What do you want to do for dinner?" For whatever reason, he NEVER remembers his dreams. I'm convinced he just doesn't have them. The ONE dream he remembers is that we were in the hospital and I delivered Cookie and she was a girl... when he told me this I started to place a lot of stock in the dream, thinking it must be a sign since he never dreams. Until he told me in that same dream, Cookie was born at 33.5 inches. Hearing that, my womb shivered in terror and said "That's hogwash, never dream again!"

Anyway...all of this intense dreaming has gotten me to thinking about what dreams I have for Cookie. As a parent-to-be, it's hard to not daydream. At the risk of sounding like a loon, I already have a first birthday party theme in mind for a boy and for a girl. I am, after all, the same person who produced a wedding invitation list the morning after JBB proposed. I like to plan!

Some of my dreams are lofty, and some are not quite so grand. I hope, above all, that Cookie is a strong, healthy baby who grows into a kind, loving adult. I hope that she makes this world a better place by being a part of it. It doesn't have to be anything earthshaking; sure, I'd love her to cure cancer, but I'd also love her to smile at strangers (but not take any candy from them!) , hold the door for the person behind her, and sometimes over tip just because. I hope that Cookie is happy, and knows true contentment. I hope that she has a contagious laugh that comes freely and often and without any reservation. I hope she finds something she LOVES to do - whether it's playing sports (that will come from her daddy!), or reading books, or traveling the globe. Whatever it is, I hope it fills her with excitement and happiness and a feeling of complete joy. I hope she has her daddy's pretty blue eyes, and if Cookie happens to be a boy, I hope he inherits his daddy's silver hair. (Heck, I hope a girl inherits that - how beautiful would that hair be on a woman!?) I hope that she loves to swim and will spend countless hours in the pool playing Marco Polo and Sharks and Minnows with her cousins. I hope that he worries less than his mama, and understands that there are things he can't control, so just let them go. I hope he has his daddy's complete lack of judgement of others. I hope he loves to snuggle, and says I love you without hesitation, and never gets too old or cool for bear hugs. I hope that she is able to stand up for herself, and for what is right. To not laugh along with other kids at the expense of someone else. I hope she'll always defend the underdog, and never, ever have a sense of entitlement. I hope that she is so darned excited on Christmas Eve that she can't sleep and blasts into our rooms at 6:00 am, ready to see what Santa has in store for her. I hope that she loves family vacations with the same fervor that I do, at the age of 31 years old. I hope that he or she finds someone to love and to love her as ferociously as I do her dad, and he does me.

I could go on forever. (Don't worry, I won't). It's just so incredible to think that in less than six months a little person is coming our way and we are responsible for shaping it's life; I don't want to mess up, and I don't ever want to unknowingly thwart a dream or crush a sensitive little soul. (Lord knows if it's half mine, it will be sensitive. Ask my mom about how I reacted to the time she asked me to "rest my mouth." I sobbed. For hours. I can still remember where I sat in the dining room, facing the wall, in shock my mom didn't want to hear another one of my many insights.) So, upon retrospect, I also hope Cookie isn't as sensitive as I am; perhaps skin a few inches thicker than mine would be a good thing!

And...on a lighter note...I've got taking the pre-natals down. Standing up and taking them with something other than water seems to be the trick! Thanks for the tips!