Insomnia

Apparently this is the night where the "Holy Cow, we're having a baby" -induced insomnia hits.  Which means that I am sitting on the couch in my bathrobe at 12:37 a.m. next to a huge bowl of pineapple, attempting to get my brain off of the hamster wheel through some mindless blogs and Facebook.  

A similar evening transpired at about the same point in my pregnancy with Riggins.  That night, however, happened to be the eve of the bridal shower I was hosting for a friend.  Rather than tuning out with pineapple and the internet, I proceeded to make a few dozen chocolate-covered strawberries at 1 a.m.  As I stood there in my bathrobe, scraping the last bits of melted chocolate from the bowl with a banana, it crossed my mind that if Jonathan were to walk into the kitchen at that moment, I would probably never hear the end of it.  I was quite the stereotype.  

Always the type to fall asleep within five minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I don't have much tolerance for a bout of insomnia.  Lying in bed awake with my mind spinning is enough to make me feel pretty nutty.  Every noise gets amplified, every position of my body feels not-quite-right, any dryness in my throat feels like the Sahara, and any obstruction in my nose feels like I can't breathe.  The dog feels too close to my legs, the room too hot or too cold, and next thing you know I am throwing off the covers in a huff and hoping that a snack and some mindless activity will bring Mr. Sandman.  Oh, and did I mention that every few seconds my entire abdomen is stretched horizontally as a little man pushes his hiney out in one direction while pressing his feet in the other?  Which I absolutely adore, of course, but when you're trying to fall asleep it can be a bit counterproductive to feel as though your belly is home to a rabid mongoose trying to escape.  

When you're becoming a mother for the first time, your mind chases around all the unknowns.  But when you're going in for another round, you know, which is worse in some ways.  I know that I am about to be sleep deprived again for the next six months or so.  I know that I am about to have a little creature attached to my body for nourishment for 40 minutes at a time every 2-3 hours around the clock.  I know I am going to be spending large amounts of time bouncing a crying baby, wondering what on earth I can do to make him happy and sleepy.  I know that my body is about to reenter that No Man's Land between pregnancy, postpartum, and normal.  I know that my hormones are about to make me a weepy, irrational mess.  I know that I am going to have to handle all of this while still being an attentive, loving mother to a toddler who won't understand why his world is being turned upside down.  And that weeks later I will have to move to another state, to another home, to a new chapter of life.  

I know.  And I guess that's what is keeping me up tonight.

I also know that it gets better.  I know that the one consistent thing about parenting is that everything will pass.  I know that God has ordained the birth of this child and our move to Oklahoma and that the timing and the details are not surprises to Him.  I know that His grace is sufficient for my every weakness, sleep deprivation, hormonal crazies, clingy toddlers, and crying babies alike.

I know.  And so back to bed I go...