Uninvited Guests

Dear Evil Creature Insomnia,

Who invited you? Seriously. Kindly pack your bags and ship on out of here. As in, GET OUT. Now. Please.

It's bad enough that I wake up multiple times in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I don't need you hanging around afterwords leaving me to just stare at the ceiling. Now don't go blaming this all on my bladder. She may be what knocks me out of dreamland, but you make it seem impossible to ever get back there. The problem is, insomnia, when you settle in and decide to stick around, I begin to think... about the laundry, and all the things that need to be done. I begin to wonder if I am working enough with Marin on her colors and number. I redecorate entire rooms in our house in my mind. I daydream about the design of our master bedroom addition someday (and yes, its completely decorated in my mind, too.). I debate if I still like the boy and girl names we have picked out. I decide to call my Grandma in the morning.

I have taken to jotting the important things you bring front of mind, in the calendar of my phone by my bedside, in the hopes that I can drive you away and go back to sleep. But sometimes you stick around for hours. Really, please. It isn't kind.

Now, I understand that times are tough and that you have a job to do. However, perhaps you'd be better suited to bring energy to someone else in the middle of the night. Say, a new mother. My neighbor, Kristy, just had a baby; did you mean to bring her the extra boost at 2am? Because until my baby comes, there really is no point in us both she and I being up in the middle of the night.

Thank you in advance for never returning again.
Johanna

Now, while we're at it...

Dear Bladder,

I know that we've been through some changes together in the last two years. After all, the birth of Marin really did a number on both you and your friend, my abs. And I realize that my being pregnant again isn't doing either of you any favors. That being said, I was hoping that you could maybe man up and getting a little stronger. I really can't be woken up three times in the night to go to the bathroom. Plus, your buddy insomnia is being a little you-know-what. Let's just say that she's being a chip. Turns out she's stubborn. So you see, if you stop waking me up, she won't be able to keep me up.

What's that? Now now, don't go blaming the kegels. I'll deal with them later. You are at least half to blame here. There is just no reason for me to wet my pants when I sneeze. I'm a grown woman. Plus, I don't have that many pairs of pants that fit.

Thank you very kindly. Now hit the gym for strength training.
Johanna

And just one more...

Dear Kegels,

I know, I know. I haven't done a kegel exercise since 2008. Can you work with me? Perhaps we can meet in the middle? I'll start to do my exercises if you promise to work with my bladder to make me stop wetting myself? What do you say, old buddy? Is it a deal?

Your Truly,
Johanna

Made for TV....

This is the stuff they should put on TV so teenagers don't want to get pregnant:

You're up at 1:00 am to go to the bathroom (for the third time) and you can't fall back asleep because you have terrible heartburn, and because the medicine that you were on for nausea (and from which you are trying to currently ween yourself) was part sleeping pills, so now you can't seem to sleep without them. As you lay tossing and turning, so frustrated because you can't sleep yet again your otherwise darling husband turns over and says to you, "What is the deal? Are you trying to keep me up too? Count to 100 or something." You inform him that you have already counted to 4 trillion, and finally decide to get out of bed. It's now 2:00am. Why is he so sweet when he's awake and so cranky when he's asleep? You hear yourself think this. You remember you acted similarly to him a week ago. You feel guilty for thinking he was anything but perfect. You check a little work email; only get more frustrated. You turn that off. You walk out to your balcony. It's a nice night. You wonder what 8 people are doing at the sub shop across the street at 2am on a Tuesday (Wednesday?). As you turn to go back inside, the darkened now guest room, soon nursery catches your eye and you realize this is only the beginning of your sleepless nights. Then you get mad at yourself for not being able to sleep when you are supposed to be taking advantage of the availability of sleep. You listen to the person upstairs walking around. What are they doing up? Are they always up at this time? It's now 2:30am. Do they always walk so loudly? Perhaps I should go say hi? What am I thinking about? I don't even know their name. You look around. House is pretty clean. I wonder if anything is on tv? Will that just keep me awake more? Maybe I'll paint my toenails. Nah, knowing me I'd finally fall asleep right before they were totally dry and ruin them and my couch. You wonder what your mom would say to do? She would say to say some Hail Mary's until you fell asleep. You've tired that but the "hour of our death" part always gives you nightmares. I'll probably get tired right at 6am when it's time to get up.

What now?

Yes friends, this is my pathetic life.