As we approach the home stretch of this pregnancy, every parent we encounter takes it upon themselves to provide some (unsolicited) advice. Whoever/whenever/wherever we may be, it is always the same, and comes delivered with equal parts solemnity and melodrama (as well as an undertone of evil laughter and spooky Halloween music in the background):
“SLEEP WHILE YOU CAN!! mwa ha ha ha ha ha”
I’ll admit, I’m a little freaked out by how quickly time seems to be passing these days. Before we know it our little guy will be here, after which point (if you buy into the hype) we’ll never sleep again. The problem is – we’re already not sleeping much.
It’s understandably difficult for Wifey to get comfortable with that watermelon inside, and he’s resting right on her bladder sending her to the bathroom at regular intervals. There’s a lot of nocturnal activity going on over here – not to mention a body pillow in the middle of the bed. So I’m left with a little slice of mattress on which to enjoy the Daddy-to-be insomnia that my sources indicate is par for the course.
You know what’s happened? The dire warnings I’ve been receiving are actually causing me to sleep less. I lie there, brain churning, wondering what my son will look like and what changes he will affect in my life. Meanwhile, somewhere on the edge of my consciousness a very assertive man with a powerful loudspeaker is screaming YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO SLEEP AGAIN!!!! YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO SLEEP AGAIN!!!!
Honestly, I’m becoming convinced that I’m going to sleep better once Little Dude is here. The reality can’t possibly be as bad as my own imagination.