Jeez.
I didn't sleep too well. I've been waking up at 4:30am for weeks and not getting back to sleep till 7am. Last night I woke up at 2:30 and didn't get back to sleep till 7am. That's full-fledged insomnia ain't it? T kept asking why James Dean looked so old in Rebel Without a Cause. Because dude didn't sleep! And now, I see it on my face too. Yeesh.
Sometimes I get up and have a sandwich I'm so hungry. The cat sniffs around me, trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing up so early while I stand at the patio window, eating a sandwich and staring at the crescent moon and Venus. It reminds me of the Cat Stevens greatest hits cover and think that over and over while I look at it. Cat Stevens, Cat Stevens, Cat Stevens. A tired mind does odd things. The same thing happens when sitting down to knit, especially seed stitch: knit one, purl one, knit one, purl one etc. I can't stop thinking it in my head while doing it. Drives me nuts.
After I finally got back to sleep this morning, I half-woke and thought, nuh-uh, I'm not getting up yet. I will sleep till noon if I must. But then BANG BANG BANG BANG on the door. I'm always uninspired to answer the phone or the door. We so seldom get calls or people showing up that if the phone rings or the door knocks, it's nothing or no one good or interesting. Just telemarketers or Jehovah Witnesses. I figured, screw it, whoever it is can come back later if they need to. However, they loudly persisted so I lept up and realized it was the chimney sweep we had called, looking for his money before performing the job. No chim-chim cheroo from this fellow.
What a sight I must have been. Sleep lines on my face, eye mask hastily pushed up on my forehead, barely focused eyes and a gravely voice trying to articulate loudly in french (as he had given up and started up the hill to leave): Oui oui oui! Je suis ici! Le cheque, le cheque! Je vais le faire maintenant! He must have thought I was such a burn-out, although it was only 8:50 am fer crab's sake.
Now it's 10am and I'm ready to go back to bed. Totally done for.
Yesterday, we had our midwife appointment. It's the third midwife I've been through now. I asked to change the first one, because she spoke no english at all. The second one was great, but then took sick leave and so did her back up. Now I have this third one. Oh well, she seemed nice enough, although I'm sure she can't be more than 20 something. A veteran who'd seen 10 trillion births might be more assuring, but then again, sometimes new blood can have a more fresh approach. Who knows, it's random luck I suppose. Still a million times better than a doctor.
She did this thing while I was lying down where she helped me visualize moving the baby upward, toward my ribs and away from the bottom of the pelvis. It was a little spacey tinkly the way she told me to do it. Instead of just saying, close your eyes and try to relax your uterus and envision the baby moving upward, it was like: call your baby upward, call to him (chimes chimes, tinkly tinkle. ok, there was not actual chimes but there could easily have been)...It was hard to concentrate on doing it because I was concentrating so hard on not laughing, but it worked. T saw it move upward. My uterus went from all hard and tight to being soft and open. Dang it all if relaxation ain't the thing for most things.
I really do believe in the method of midwives; The way they treat pregnancy and birth as super natural and normal and they empower you to have control over your body and how you feel, (doctors just tell you what to do and act like it's an illness you must endure for 9 months). I totally believe in body awareness and breathing and yoga and all that stuff as super important, it's just the language that gets me laughing sometimes. The new age speak. It makes me chuckle like a teenager in sex-ed class. Might make me seem like I don't respect the message. I do. I just wish it could be delivered more matter of factedly sometimes. Yes, fact-ed-ly.
Anyhoodles.
Onward and upward. Tonight, if I wake up, I will try calling to my brain's sleep center. Come to me sleep. Come to me. And maybe I'll keep some chimes by the bed to seal the deal. Oh, I'm such a poop! I'm really making fun of myself more than new agey stuff. Me and my snickery self. Mmmm, snickers. Actually, I don't care for Snickers. I prefer Mars.
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