As this pregnancy continues to draw near a close, my dreams and my memories are becoming more and more vivid. I’m pretty sure that the dream issue is one reason why I’m unable to sleep at night. As for the memories? Well, I’m pretty sure they’re the reason that my nerves are on edge.
Everything is just swirling around me, mixing in with the fears I’m feeling about Mom’s cancer and this baby’s health. I’m somewhat overwhelmed. (Though less sweaty today with a predicted high of only 78 degrees. 62 tomorrow!) I’m trying to be “good.” I’m drinking my water. I’m eating healthy things, like apples. But yesterday, I was so sick to my stomach with nerves that I couldn’t eat a thing until dinner time. (Making up for the fact that they day before? All I did was eat. Oops?)
It’s strange, really, being this focused on my Mom’s health near the end of this (last) pregnancy. With the Munchkin, we were very focused on my health and my kidneys. Mom and I were having horrid communication problems and, quite frankly, I didn’t care (at the time) if the Munchkin ever knew her grandmother. Now I can’t think of a worse thing for this baby, Little Man or Munchkin. I want them to know their grandmother, their Yia Yia. If you would have told me, during this phase of my pregnancy with the Munchkin, that my greatest worry would be that my children wouldn’t know their maternal grandmother, I would have laughed at you.
Things change. Don’t they?
The memories are sometimes pleasant, sometimes fraught with anxiety and sometimes random. Why do I remember what my mother was wearing on the day my daughter was born? Why do I remember which towel we took to the hospital to keep the seat from being drowned (my water broke at home)? What are these little, unimportant snip-its? Why can’t I remember some of the bigger stuff? Why is memory like this?
As for the specifics on dreams, in the past week I have dreamed: my husband was cheating on me (he’s not), Little Man broke a bone (he didn’t), this baby was born too early (which is still a reality) and in another, he was born very quickly so we didn’t get to the hospital (uh, another possibility). I have dreamed that my mother died. I have dreamed that I wrecked my car. I have dreamed the the Munchkin got lost and no one could find her. Uh, the list goes on. Every time I wake up to go to the bathroom (frequently), I go back to sleep to have another awful dream. Even when I do get eight hours of sleep, it’s interrupted and not well-rested. I’m exhausted. You know, on top of constant contractions. Wee.
Exhausted, really. Exhausted.
