Pregnancy Insomnia

There are tons of scenes in movies where kind, tired husbands make late night trips into fast food places and convenience stores in search of finding whatever culinary masterpiece will meet the needs of their pregnant wives. That is exactly what Matt is doing right now at one-freaking-thirty in the morning, as he put it. There are two things that all pregnant women at some point in their pregnancy want to do more than anything else in life, which just so happens to be eat and sleep. Unfortunately, due to our complete inability to sleep, that leaves us with only one thing in life that brings us pleasure: eating.

I have been trying to sleep for the past two hours. Sleep, the only thing that brought me pleasure and that I was good at during the first four months of my pregnancy, is the one thing that I cannot do. Me trying to sleep involves an act of God. It takes the precarious arrangement of six pillows, a room cold enough to make most Arctic animals uncomfortable, intense massaging that would cripple most people's fingers and a prayer that my extremities will not tingle and fall asleep prior to my falling asleep because that would require me to rotate like a chicken on a spit, which would ultimately lead to me having to go to the bathroom for the third freaking time in one hour. Yes, all of those circumstances must be met in order for me to sleep, and it takes A REALLY LONG TIME for all of those elements to come together, which means that on nights like tonight I lack the perseverance to actually accomplish sleep.

Tonight the craving is a root beer float. My mom's pregnancy poison of choice was a root beer float, so perhaps this craving is just hereditary. Something about the bubbles, fizz and mushiness of the ice cream seems like the perfect treat or at least a close second to sleep. As I type I am practically salivating at the thought of chugging down my pregnancy craving equivalent to the most perfect, blended with salt margarita in the whole world. True, I will undoubtedly have heartburn after drinking, but I have just learned that heartburn is the pregnant woman's equivalent to hang overs. Pregnant women are basically food alcoholics. We eat what we know we shouldn't and without regard for the consequences.

With that, I will wait with baited breath, while a chick flick plays in the background. One of two things will happen. I will either fall asleep, which would be fabulous, or I will be greeted shortly with my root beer float. Wish me luck.