A couple nights ago, heartburn and back pain combined to keep me awake a lot longer than I wanted to be. I scribbled down my thoughts in the moment, my journaling software marking the time as about 2:39 am. I sort of forgot about it and then found it just now, and thought you might find it amusing. Unscripted and unedited, this is me, pregnant and awake at 2 am.

I lay in bed awake after having visited the loo no less than five times in the past few hours. I am worried that it will clog if I don’t flush but worried that flushing will wake up the house, so I decide to go once more and use as little toilet paper as possible.

I readjust the pillows in hopes of somehow differently angling myself, although my only option at present for sleeping is pretty much flat on my back. Being on my side hurts too much around the SI joint. After half an hour of laying on my side as a hopeful experiment, the confirmation that my back is the only place for me comes when something in those lower regions pops as I try to turn over to get out of bed and I cry out one short, loud yelp, just enough to cause the Bear to stir in the next room.

There are cats in our neighbourhood that sound like small children. Late at night they begin to bray and cry. When we first moved in, in sleepy states, I’d wake up completely sure the Bear was crying and hurry into his room to find him snoring, covered with blanky and cozy asleep. The cats are out crying again tonight. Bless ‘em.

I make my way downstairs in hopes that rearranging pillows and sleeping sitting up on the couch will bring some relief. The upper back pain that is radiating around — I can only blame it on heartburn because I’m pretty sure that’s the source — is like an evil creature punishing me for trying to come downstairs for some creative relief. It flares up as I nestle among the pillows in an upright position with my head resting on a pillow adjusted to shoulder height. It throbs as if to say, get back in the bucket, crab. You’re stuck here with the rest of us.

Another trip to the loo and my thoughts diverge to a William Carlos Williams poem I’d like to print out and frame — the one with the red wheelbarrow and the white chickens so much depends upon. Funny where your mind is at 2 am.

The creepy crawley which attempts to keep the pool clean is malfunctioning and constantly sucking air instead of staying underwater. I listen to it gurgle and bubble — I sort of relate to its frustrated attempts to do something it’s struggling to do. It just wants to clean, I just want to sleep. Neither of us seems to be getting very far.

A recent article on a medical health website suggested that milk can actually cause heartburn because it encourages more acid build-up in the stomach. I ponder this fact as I try to decide if some sort of snack might help me fall asleep. Sometimes a full tummy works when nothing else will. I elect a mug of strawberry yoghurt with a good sprinkling of muesli stirred in, and set about to making my early morning snack a reality while listening to the creepy crawley, stuck in sucking air mode again.

While I’m in snack-making mode, I discover my thoughts are about as grumpy as possible. Older women who’ve suggested this or that solution for discomfort in pregnancy are old hags — I wonder where this thought came from and then try to move swiftly on.

Eating my muesli and yoghurt snack my mind takes me back to the dream I was having upstairs before discomfort awakened me again. I wasn’t particularly enjoying the dream, but remember having a mother who wasn’t my actual mother in the dream. She was unwell and needed constant care. She didn’t even seem Southern and I didn’t want to take care of her. Who was that stranger mother sitting across the table from me and why did she live in a room at the church? Sometimes your mind returns you to dreams you woke up from and you kind of decide whether you’d like to revisit them or not. I didn’t like this one so I decided to move on.

After the mug is finished, I’m back on the couch, having taken another acid reducing pill even though I’m no longer convinced of their effectiveness. To dream, to hope… perchance to sleep…

Recognising the major source of comfort in this pregnancy predicament is a source of hope and challenge at the same time: the light at the end of the sleeplessness tunnel may very well be six weeks away. I scribble down these reflections, which keeps me upright for a while longer, and then close my MacBook in hopes of drifting off to dreamland and finding myself running through open fields, thirty-four pounds lighter and heartburn free. Amen.

{I got a much better night of sleep last night, in case you’re wondering. And the Bear brought me a flower (pictured above) the next morning. :)}