Desuppression

Seven hours of sleep, and the alarm sounds.

Seven hours of sound sleep. I could keep sleeping.

I press snooze.

Anticipating the snooze alarm.

I do not keep sleeping.

Waiting.

I could sleep like this every night.

Coughing gets in my way. It feels like a month of coughing, my abs punching my lungs to expel air at random times, at inconsistent forces. Attempting to tame a lingering tickle in my throat.

Coughing annoys, distracts. Steals sleep. I feel the tickle right now.

Breathing has been shallow lately in this past month. This morning I exhale deeply, and my ribs tighten. Sometimes the spaces between the ribs cramp. Like I have been running and I get a stitch in my side, but I cannot run through the pain until it subsides.

I am not running. I just lie here. Not sleeping.

But the cramps. Am I out of oxygen? Has it been so long since inflating my lungs through deep, meditative breaths? Have my ribs forgotten how to expand, to compensate for my body’s deficit in breathable air?

What is breathable?

Winter sits on the air, spits in it. Sometimes she brings snow and wind and chilled rains and replaces the air.

Winter is heavy and often merciless and stingy, not only with the air but also the sunlight.

I realize more than one cause facilitates my suffocation.

This early in the morning headlights slide across closed blinds: One thousand one, one thousand two. I try breathing again, and it still hurts.

Darkness penetrates the room. Darkness is space, but it does not expand. It constricts. I cannot breathe the space, but it breathes into me, occupying too much of my lungs. The pressure also surrounds me from the outside, hugging my ribs tight.

Darkness leaves just enough air in my lungs to cough. Cold medicine suppresses the cough, helps me sleep.

Now, if only I could breathe more than a teaspoon at a time without pain.

Yet when my child and my husband cough, all I want to do is absorb their coughs. They need to be cough-free more than I.

Ten minutes later. The snooze alarm sounds. I turn it off and sit up. I could keep sleeping. I could keep overthinking this cough. I slip out of bed and begin getting ready for the day, grateful at least to be breathing, albeit heavy, dirty winter air.

Grateful for the full night’s sleep.

————-

Disclaimer: Obviously I’m rusty with writing, but bear with me. I should be doing this more often and finding my voice. Beneath the coughs. Fingers crossed.

My. Ribs.

It’s like inflating
a 17-inch balloon
inside a 12-inch barrel
made of popsicle sticks.

This balloon won’t pop.

Tension increases.
Pressure persists.

What is the breaking point?

When will the popsicle sticks
snap?

She has strong feet
or hands; I guess at
whatever moves inside.

Dad watches and feels
pokings and undulations
in thrilling unpredictabilities.

We three toss and turn throughout
the night. We want comfort in
limited space. Dad, though, does it
while sleeping.

She crowds my
intestines, stomach,
my lungs, bladder. To breathe
is to live; to poop is
to breathe. To pee means
not sleeping.

A little human–filling more
with brains and blood and
fatty tissue and a pumping heart;
with personality; with
muscles that make fists and smiles
and curiosity;
with life and joy and beauty–
as I lie on my side
pulls my ribs down,
weighing,

stretching bone and
cartilage and my
threshold for pain
and my capacity
to love.

This barrel has already burst.

Brain Lapses and Meta Sadness

Three little anecdotes, either because 1) the public shouldn’t know every lapse I have beyond three, or 2) I have been extremely alert and conscientious, and I only have three imperfections to report. You choose.

At church:

  • One time during the final hour of the three-hour block, I was walking around as usual, finding new people to talk to and asking people to offer the opening and closing prayers. I walked from the front of the room toward the left side (stage left/house right) and rammed my leg into a chair in the middle of the first row. An aisle divided the rows of chairs and my leg bumped into the first chair of the first row on the left side. It seems in a subconscious effort not to bump my tummy into anything, I leaned the upper half of my body away from the chairs while I let my legs continue in a straight line toward the chairs. It did not hurt, but I asked myself if I had bumped into more things I wasn’t aware of. No bruises, but a new weird self-awareness of my body.
  • Another day during the first hour of the three-hour block, Reilly and I were listening to one of the first two speakers. It might have been a young man who told a story about the time his mom told him not to eat candy in bed, but he kept a stash of candy under his pillow, and he checked the hallway to make sure his mom wasn’t coming to his room. He ate one piece, then another piece. He then heard his name in a whisper, so he checked the hallway again. No one was coming. He ate a few more pieces. He checked the hallway again, and no one was there. He ended up eating all the candy, savoring every piece. Then he heard his name again and his mom jumped out of the closet and busted him for disobeying the rules. When he concluded his talk (about obedience) and the congregation said “Amen,” I didn’t say “Amen.” Instead, I raised a sustaining (or opposing) hand. I realized what I’d done, but I leaned over to Reilly to make a comment about the talk and  didn’t look around. Looking around would have made me look guilty.

Just yesterday:

  • I met up with some coworkers for lunch up in Salt Lake. As in most cases where I don’t know people very well, I mainly kept to myself and listened to everyone else talk. One person ordered the white bean burger, another person ordered French onion soup, one person ordered the crab macaroni and cheese, and I ordered a blackened salmon sandwich. All the orders looked amazing (most food still looks incredible to me), but I want to talk about my sandwich. The decently-sized fish filet was well seasoned and perfectly cooked. It came dressed with baby spinach and a nice tangy mayo inside a sliced fresh ciabatta roll. Then there were a side of fries, which were also so very yummy. I cut my enormous sandwich in half, then I cut one of the halves into quarters. Everyone around me kept talking, and I listened while slipping into food ecstasy. While listening and occasionally interjecting nods and chuckles, I finished the two quarters of the sandwich and most of the fries, and almost an hour had passed. We paid our checks and I asked for a box, excited to get home and have my leftovers for dinner, perhaps even let Reilly have a bite. I readied the sandwich for departure. My coworkers and put on our coats and headed out. I did turn around and check the table to make sure I didn’t forget my wallet. Satisfied that I had remembered my wallet, I joined the others outside. When we got back to the office, I realized I left my sandwich at the restaurant. My heart instantly broke. I sulked on the train home. My forgotten sandwich is probably why I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m still very sad about it.

The last story is the saddest because it’s my biggest, most tragic lapse during this pregnancy. Not pregnant, I’ve forgotten my food at restaurants, but I haven’t been this pathetic about it. While I can certainly blame “pregnancy brain” for this indiscretion, such blame will not bring the sandwich back. I guess I could also blame my hormone-befuddled brain for my intense affinity for sandwiches (HOLY CRAP I LOVE SANDWICHES), without such affinity I would not be in deep mourning.

So far this morning I had breakfast, did some homework, and did some yoga. My tummy feels good, Baby Girl has been moving around, and my back has responded well to the stretching. I even had a small second breakfast while writing this post. And I may even be up to making my own damn good sandwich for lunch.

I can get through this.

Sleeping Well Despite the Midnight Tinkle

Normally, I’m a strict back sleeper. It’s the most comfortable position for me, and I find that I don’t move at this position as I slumber.

Ahh, this is so comfortable and cozy.
Ahh, this is so comfortable and cozy.

Early on in my pregnancy, I taught myself to sleep on my side. I’ve read different things on why sleeping on one’s side is good for the baby, but I like what my doctor said: Your body will tell you when you need to move. And I really like the idea of listening to one’s body. The side position is a good position, but I don’t like the feeling of sleeping on one shoulder. I also don’t like the way my back hurts in the morning.

This position isn't as comfortable.
This position isn’t as comfortable.

As I got further along in pregnancy, I kept sleeping on my back, because it continued being a comfortable position. It’s just that sometimes Baby’s position would dictate whether I should shift to my side.

Still comfy as long as Baby likes it for the moment.
Still comfy as long as Baby likes it for the moment.

As I began sleeping more often on my side, I decided to sleep with a small pillow between my knees to keep my hips aligned. I also wedged a pillow under my belly to support Baby. This seemed to help for a while.

It's not that the pillows are uncomfortable. Well, they are. Sort of.
It’s not that the pillows are uncomfortable. Well, they are. Sort of.

There was a week or two when I could sleep throughout the night. It felt amazing, and my energy levels soared. Lately, though, it seems that Baby has figured out not only where my bladder is, but she uses it to practice for the trampoline gymnastics event in the 2016 Summer Olympics.

Practice does make perfect.
Practice does make perfect.

Wee! This is so fun!
Wee! This is so fun!

Wow! So many tricks!
Wow! So many tricks!

Of course all these little antics wake me up in the middle of the night and I end up getting out of bed to use the bathroom.

I used to be able to sleep straight through the night.
I used to be able to sleep straight through the night. It’s time to pee again.

After a while, the three pillows I used became less comfortable and my sleep suffered. I wasn’t as well rested, my back constantly hurt even though I stretched and exercised to alleviate some of the pressure throughout the day and right before bed.

About a week ago, we received a package that Reilly ordered for me. He heard about the Snoogle from a friend who got one for his expecting wife. It’s a body pillow that’s supposed to support the back, hips, and tummy.

Here’s a commercial with an annoying lady who could sound a little more excited about the product:

This pillow is so very comfortable. And even though I still have to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, instead of staying up for two to three more hours after getting back into bed, I can snuggle into the Snoogle and return to sleep much sooner. My body feels a lot better in the morning, too.

SO MUCH BETTER.
SO MUCH BETTER.

Sound Education

I mentioned before that as my belly has expanded my belly button has also increased in size. Because I often have to find a purpose in everything that happens, I surmised that the bigger belly button might also be used for feeding Baby.

My belly button used to look like this, more like a slot-shaped abyss. Things like lint and crumbs would be lost in there forever:

belly00a

Now my belly button looks closer to this, which makes it so much easier to clean:

belly01a

Here are some food items I’ve considered giving to Baby through my belly button. My first idea was a carrot, since that seemed most likely to fit:

belly02

Then I also thought about Red Vines, since they are also a skinny food:

belly03

 

I also wondered how junk food like French fries (since Red Vines aren’t really junk food) would affect Baby:

belly04

Then I started thinking about protein and how important it is to Baby’s development. I thought about how much Baby might appreciate a steak:

belly05

But then again, Baby might like something a little lighter:

belly06

As you can see, my new belly button could really come in handy.

The other night I discovered another way to help Baby. It was around 2 or 3 am, and I had some trouble getting to sleep. I was getting frustrated and thinking of ways to fall asleep, and I decided to listen to some music on my Kindle. When it’s late at night and Reilly’s already sleeping, I usually plug in some earphones into the Kindle and watch Netflix or Hulu or listen to music.

Up to this moment, Baby had only listened to music from the regular speakers from a regular stereo system. And the stereo was never up close. Maybe the late hour caused some delirium, but it occurred to me that I could use my earphones so that Baby could listen to music with me. I decided to try sharing my earbuds with baby:

belly07

I put one earbud in my ear, and the other earbud went into my belly button. Baby and I listened to music for about an hour. Of course I made sure to keep the volume low.

Baby seemed to like certain types of French music, like Carla Bruni’s “Quelqu’un m’a dit”:

belly08a

She didn’t like “Comme des infants” by Coeur de Pirate:

belly09a

And she seemed to hate “Satellite” by Indochine:

belly10a

But Baby seemed to calm down while listening to classical music, such as violin concertos performed by Hilary Hahn. And the last song I played before going to sleep was Patty Griffin’s “Heavenly Day,” which we both agree on:

belly11a

I can’t wait to see what else Baby likes to listen to.

Quarantined Himself to the Study

Poor thing.

Yeah, that’s a bucket. Just in case.

He ate a few crackers. He ate some soup. He got ready for bed, took some medicine. Drank some water.

I prepared the futon. He got in it and under the blankets. We had family prayer, and now he will sleep.

I probably will not.

Get better, love.

Intro at a New Ward

Hi.

My name is May Anderton.

I am four feet, ten inches tall.

I’m from Jacksonville, Florida.

I am a senior at BYU studying English.

And I also work part time at [where I work].

I love nature.

I love good music.

And I love to laugh.

At people.

I was already disgusted at the idea of having to introduce myself to a chapel full of strangers. But that’s what I said at the pulpit. And my roommate, who spoke after me, told everyone that she now knows more about me after my introduction than from the past month of living with me.

That’s because I’m so extroverted. And bubbly.

But, a cute blond did chat me up after church, and those 20 minutes made up for the previous three hours.

Which is not why I went to church.

But it’s great meeting nice people.

This bunch of folks seem a lot more laid back than the last ward. I’m pretty sure it’s not my attitude that’s changed. BELIEVE ME. This group might end up being really good for me. Plus, it’s my last year here, and maybe I’m finally learning to relax.

Then again, this was only my first Sunday at the new ward.

Yet . . . I don’t know.

We’ll see, I guess.

CLASS STARTS TOMORROW AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M GOING TO DO AND I DON’T KNOW IF I WILL EVER FALL ASLEEP BUT I GUESS THAT’S PAR FOR THE COURSE. WEEEEEEEEE!