I’m a sound sleeper. Always have been (aside from a few times in life where small sounds have woken me easily but this generally coincides with big change – moving in with the man of the moment, starting a new job, finding out you’re pregnant – and have been hardly surprising.
So, you’ll understand the shock I felt when, one night last week, I snored myself awake. How loudly do you have to be snoring to wake the dead?
And yes, snoring is bad enough but it hasn’t ended there.
If I relax too much during waking hours I snore whilst I’m awake too.
Nick is basically sleeping on the couch and I don’t blame him and I’m semi sleeping in the bedroom because one warning dollied out by various sites has proven to be true – I’m just too uncomfortable to sleep through these days. I flop from one side of my body to the other, dragging my tummy and its pillow around with me. I wake up in a panic on my back thinking I’ve killed the baby (apparently sleeping on your back is a HUGE no no at this point in the pregnancy) and yet have never felt as much physiological relief as I do when I’m prone, face up, staring at the ceiling.
Yes ma’am… this truly is the most glorious time of a woman’s life.
PS1: Some of the reactions to last week’s blog and the fact that Sniffy McSnortenson is the SWEETEST person in the land has left me feeling a little guilty. I do love the lady I was referring to in last week’s blog most dearly. I just hate coughing more.
PS2: My colleagues are awesome: following my Vadge being kicked by a Moose post, I came in to work to find this presticked to my desk divider…