Butt Rot & Other Joys of Modified Bed Rest

I'm still practicing modified bedrest when I'm not working. That means I spend all evenings and weekends on my couch or in bed. Now this may sound delightful to many, but after a while it grates on my last nerve. Or at least on my butt nerves. Yes, you can get butt rot, that numb & uncomfortable feeling you get on road trips just from the couch or bed. I think it comes on sooner than the normal 5 hour mark, though. It might have something to do with positioning, since my feet are supposed to be higher than my heart (not easy when you're pregnant with what must be a baby wildebeast). I've given up all dreams of being comfortable.

Sleep is elusive, something other people do. I wake up often to pee. Very often. Like every 1.5 hours or so. The days I can sleep for 3 hours in a row are wonderful, although then I wake up and realize that my body is cramped up like the Hunchback of Notre Dame because I didn't move a centimeter while unconscious. Which is really okay because...

It takes a LOT to roll over. Clutch the belly with one hand, wriggle away, push or pull with the free hand and finally, with a lot less finesse than Shamu coming out of the water and sliding across the loading dock thingy at a Sea World show, I've rolled over. Then I have to re-position the body pillow under my belly and between my knees, flip my pillow to the cool side, move my hair out from under my neck so I won't be trapped in a funny (funnier?) position and then try to go back to sleep. At this point I will realize that a) I haven't peed yet or b) I'm starving, c) I'm thirsty or d) all of the above. And that's not counting the times when I find myself completely wide awake. Awake enough to get up, do three loads of laundry and cook a meatloaf, if I was only cleared to do so.

Cooking. I love my babydaddy. He's learning to cook while I'm on bedrest. But I completely miss being able to stroll into the kitchen and whip up whatever I want to eat. I also dislike it that he's transitioned from lovah to butler. Seriously, I feel ridiculous asking him to refill my water. I must have never been super rich in a former life...I'm pretty sure I was a servant, not the one being served. And I want to be in the kitchen, creating delicious meals. His meals are yummy but I love, love, love to cook.

No matter how many cable channels you have, after a set amount of days watching television you will find that nothing holds your attention. New netflix movies can't get here fast enough. There's only so many times I can watch "Paranormal State" reruns.

Okay, bitch over. I am THRILLED that Ryder will be here in 10 days. I'm ready for the next step in my adventure, the land of sweet baby smell and soft, soft skin...of puke & poopy diapers and even the anticipated ultra sore nips from breastfeeding. I still look down and think "holy smokes, there's a baby in there!". It's amazing and humbling. But don't think that at some point in time when he's being a little stinker I'm not going to trot out stories of butt rot and insomnia, because I will. After all, I'm having a scheduled c-section a month early so it's not like I'll get to use the "I endured intensely painful labor for 34 hours to have you and here you are treating me this way?!!" line.