My Chinese-American husband snored. I woke at the slightest disturbance. For years, it was a miserable combination. I survived on earplugs and every sleep medication known to man.
Then my ear canals got infected. The doctor told me I couldn’t wear earplugs anymore.
I told Andy we had to do something about his snoring. Like many snorers, Andy didn’t really believe he snored.
“And if I do snore occasionally,” he insisted, “it’s not loud.”
“I can hear it when I try and sleep in the living room,” I argued. “Sometimes it’s not even a snore—it’s like a snarl!”
“You’re just a light sleeper.” Continue reading Dead Asleep (#296)
I was a night owl as a child and an insomniac as an adult. I stayed awake replaying the events of the day—especially everything I did wrong. Therapy and getting an insane amount of exercise cured me in my twenties. After a miserable pregnancy (with equally miserable sleep), I woke up for breastfeeding several times a night. Once Baby D dropped nighttime nursing, I woke up because I’d gotten used to waking up. The slightest noises woke me up because Something Might Be Wrong with Baby D.
Then I woke up because something WAS wrong with Baby D, either an illness or a scream of “Want dinner!” at midnight.
My husband Andy never woke up unless I punched him in the arm, which, as I slept less and he snored more, made me want to punch him even harder. Continue reading Wide Awake (#295)
I didn’t have an easy pregnancy. There were six months of puking. There was weight loss, weight gain, anemia, and cankles.
Pregnancy was miserable, but I didn’t think you could actually become allergic to being pregnant.
Turns out, you can.
My arms started to itch. I looked for bug bites. Nothing. Just light redness.
Continue reading The Itch (#248)
I’m a light sleeper. This is a great trait for fending off nocturnal predators. As there are no leopards in Los Angeles, waking at the slightest noise is now merely useful for moving a cat before it pukes on your new rug at 3 AM. Continue reading Midnight Caller (#88)