If one more person smugly tells me to ‘enjoy my sleep while I can’, I’m going to slap them. It’s not funny, not true and not helpful. You see, what no one tells you is that the nine months of gestation aren’t all that fun either. It’s as if my body is preparing me for the inevitable, because for the past few weeks I’ve been suffering broken sleep.
It first started with my ‘Granny bladder’, the four-a-night time toilet habit that has given me a new appreciation for the elderly. Then, for no reason, my body spontaneously started to wake up at strange hours. Now, it’s every four hours if I’m lucky. Suddenly eight hours solid sleep seems a distant memory, as I wonder how I’ll get by at work on just five hours sleep today. And how do I cope? Well, I book a meeting in my diary and run to the carpark while I get some shut eye for a few hours. It’s the only way!