The End Times

No, I’m not referring to global warming or The War of the Worlds, or even to stars falling from the sky… No, I’m talking about the last six weeks of this thing called pregnancy. Besides the constant back pain, the itchy tummy, the rolling and stretching and INVADING of my body, and the bowling ball of a head I’m carrying between my legs, one of my worst complaints right now is the sleep deprivation.

Now, I’m no expert on sleep and dreams, and I can’t remember which point in the sleep cycle we even have our dreams, but let me just say that last night, I was never asleep long enough to even have a chance at a dream. It went something like this…

Falling into bed around 11 pm (probably my first mistake; I should get in bed at 7, after Jack goes to bed). From about 11pm-5am, I woke up intermittently with awful back ache and cramps…i.e., contractions. It was miserable. And it hurt. Finally, around 5, I remembered that the nurse at the hospital told me that contractions don’t “count” as real contractions if you have a full bladder (which I don’t totally understand), so I moaned my way into a sitting position and precariously waddled my way to the bathroom.

Crawling back in bed, I hoped and prayed for some sleep. Then, as often happens after an early morning bathroom trip, my stomach started to growl, and I began to feel sick with hunger pangs. When these finally subsided, I guess I fell asleep, because it was at this point that I had my first and only dream of the night (morning).

I dreamed that I decided it was time for me to go back to work. So I just showed up at my old school one morning, and walked right into my classroom. I looked around, feeling nostalgic at all the pictures on the wall, the little chairs and desks, and of course, my own desk, overloaded as usual with papers to grade, stickers, pencils, and books. Suddenly I realized that I didn’t even know what the plan was for the day, so I made my way to my neighboring teacher’s room. She was surprised to see me; when I told her that I had decided to come back, she looked at me with a funny expression on her face and said, “Oh, um, Annika, I’m sorry, but I think you might have to apply for the position again!”

Oh my gosh. Talk about embarrassing. It had never occurred to me, in my dreamland mind, that I couldn’t just walk in and start making money again! So I sheepishly headed down the hallway to speak to the principal, somehow hoping against all hope that she would interview and hire me then and there on the spot. As I opened the office door…

Jack started crying. Shaking myself out of my school environment and back into reality, I rolled over in bed and said to Eric, “What time is it?” “5:30,” came the grumpy reply. Ugh.

Jack only cried for a few minutes before going back to sleep. My other child, however, must have heard my voice and thought it was time to get up, because she began rolling and stretching and gently kicking. Now there really was no hope of sleep.

When my alarm went off at 6, and 6:09, and 6:18…I finally dragged myself out of bed and took a shower. Of all days to not get enough sleep…I had a little girl coming at 7am (for childcare) and Eric was going to work during the day today, so I had to get a shower first thing or I'd never have a chance.

And as these things go, instead of waking up at 6:30 like he often does, the one morning I'm already awake at 6:30 anyway…Jack slept in until almost 7:45. Go figure.

I know there are worse things in the world…I know that sleepless nights are not inherently evil…I know that there are incomprehensible nights with no sleep on their way, and I should be grateful for all I can get right now. All I know is that it’s going to be a long day; no, it’s going to be a very long six weeks.