The following post was sponsored by Tempur-pedic because we think you deserve to get your best night's sleep every night. (Thanks Tempur-pedic!)
Anyway, because I'm sure you're wildly interested, here is what last week's sleep pattern looked like via FitBit which I still don't entirely understand. It is literally the size of my pinky finger with the memory of a thousand elephants.
Shockingly (not!), the best sleep I'm getting is on the weekends, when I don't have to take Fable to school or get up with the kids. But what's most nuts about these sleep charts are the "you were in bed for" vs" you were actually sleeping" areas. I'm spending an average of two hours every night awake? Could that be? I mean, is it even humanly possible for one to wake up THIRTY-NINE TIMES in one night?
I don't know. I do know that I feel relatively great considering how much sleep I SHOULD be getting vs how much sleep I actually am. Does carrying around this much estrogen have the same effect as as Red Bull mixed with forty-shots of espresso? Because I have more energy this pregnancy than I had with the other two combined. Perhaps it's because I don't have a choice or maybe it's because I'm so exhausted I've gone full circle into Insomniac Crazytown. I did tell a stranger the other day that I was an "Executive Reproducer" when he asked "what I did for a living", which according to his terrified facial expression did not amuse him. New Rule: Never ask a stranger what she does for a living and expect to get a legitimate answer.
The thing is? Even though I know I should be getting more sleep than my daily average of 6hrs 33mins, a part of me also feels like this is a great time to prepare my body for never sleeping again. I do know the drill. (Kind of.) I've had newborn babies before. (It's just that they were born one at a time, three and a half years apart.) Still, even with one infant at a time to care for, those first few months were a total blur of feeding and changing and sleep-walking around the house in backwards pajama pants/falling asleep on myself at the breakfast table.
This time around, I doubt I'll even have time to eat breakfast, let alone put on pants. In the meantime, I get to practice not sleeping by sporadically catnapping throughout the night.
Which is why on behalf of my future self, I'm considering "six and a half hours of sleep" the divinest of luxuries.