The Human Rotisserie

As I approach 20 weeks this week, I am feeling distinctly rotisserie-like. I'm getting more "meaty" in front, my weight shifts unevenly like a rotisserie chicken, and most rotisserie-esque... I have to flip regularly in bed, all night. As you may imagine, this can make getting a solid night's sleep a challenge.

I start out the evening with great intentions, chamomile tea perhaps, hydrated (aka marinated in my new favorite substance... water). Months ago John bought me a Mommy Boppy pregnancy pillow, I position half on either side of my torso so I can rotate like a barbeque spit. I am a tosser/turner. We have a GREAT mattress, I fidget during the day and I fidget during the night. Having a small ellipse shape on either side of my growing belly is ideal, right?  It would be if I didn't wake up every 20-30 minutes. I often wake up on my right side and "correct" myself to sleep on the left, where I am often greeted by a sneaky puppy who has shimmied onto and up the middle of the bed.

I have long known you are supposed to lay on your left side when pregnant, I did not understand why. This position creates the ideal blood flow through the vena cava, it's not big deal, I mean- if you don't WANT to give your baby good blood supply so you can be more comfortable on your right, just go ahead. I already feel like a neglectful mom just from being comfortable on my right side! Ack! Other articles and information go into greater detail about how the spine is better aligned laying on our left side, left side-sleeping allows the kidneys to better flush out waste, and reduces acid reflux. Is that all?! No pressure or anything... except on my alarm clock.

Did I mention I have a new alarm clock? She's in my belly. She, not unlike her canine family members, starts to prepare for her daddy's noctural return home around 1030- he often does not get home until close to midnight. Sometimes she is so active I feel as though she is trying to poke through my belly button and greet him at the door, "Daddy! Daddy you're home! Over here! I'm stuck in mommy's rotisserie belly!!!" Thus begins Battle Bedtime. I may find myself victorious, until the first bathroom trip of the evening, and it starts again... I don't have a bun, I have a little cornish hen in my oven. Oh well... I love my little hen, *ding!* time to rotate.