No one in this room is hungry

Ok, there is no one in this room but me. Insomnia on my part (a mixture of the daily 3am bathroom trip, followed by sneezing and wheezing for about an hour) and snoring on the part of a few other individuals (both furry and not), has resulted in me sleeping in the guestroom for weeks now. And usually my wake-up involves some snacking. Maybe some snacking followed by an antacid.

But in 2 1/2 hours I'm getting a glucose test done, due to my "advanced maternal age", which just means I'm going to be a really hungry, pregnant, 40 year old woman, drinking something like a cup of sugar mixed with a cup of water. Soon. But not soon enough.

I may not be cooking a Thanksgiving feast tomorrow, but pretty much all of America is, and they are all talking about it on Facebook. Which is where I spend a fair amount of insomnia time, on my phone, trying not to sit up and wake my body up more.

There is nothing extreme about my condition. Nothing life threatening. I'm just up every night for 1-2 hours, too tired to read or think all that seriously, wheezing just enough to keep coughing and not quite falling back asleep, or sneezing and blowing my nose. And deciding between trying to fall back asleep hungry or with acid reflux. It is just annoying.

I don't wish it away. I'm happy I'm pregnant.  I've just got more people looking to me to have a coherent thought this time than last time - no toddler, no meetings. So I mess up more often, because there is more to mess up. I snap at my kid when she wakes me up with a container of glitter she wants to play with at 7:30am because I still haven't finished cleaning up from her birthday weekend and I haven't asked her to help much. My husband is lucky if there is one day's worth of clean underwear and two eggs in the fridge. My dog probably wonders whether I even know she's there.

But the point of this post? I'm just trying to do something to pass the time this morning. To get to 8:30am at the doctor's office. The baby kicks. I turn over one more time, readjust the pillow, I cough, I turn and sneeze and reach for a tissue. My stomach gurgles. I wheeze a bit and wonder if I can use my inhaler before the test. Then I hope I fall asleep soon so I'm not feeling exhausted when I hear my daughter's voice as she wakes up. I consider flipping through a magazine, but feel just tired enough not to want to think. The sound of traffic starts to pick up and makes me a bit more anxious about falling asleep before the sky starts getting bright. Tick, tick, tick. I feel vaguely like I could just wake up and start the day but I know the sleep-monster is going to hit in the next hour, so I just keep waiting. Trying.

Somewhere in the future, the me with a new baby is yelling back to just enjoy, to read something just because I can, to store up these early morning hours, or for the love of pete, to do something with them so that there is something I can look back on when I'm exhausted and feeling useless as a new mom. Or bored and exhausted. But that's not the way it works, is it?

I keep waiting.

Happy Thanksgiving, though.