Midnight. It is the middle of the night and I am wide awake. Wide awake and a migraine that seems to be the size of Texas. Almost like a thousand pounds of brick is sitting on top of my head right now. I look over at my husband who is sleeping as sound as a newborn baby and suddenly I’m mad at him for being so peaceful.
“Are you awake? Can you hand me my phone?”
A limb from the dark came flailing towards me with a phone in hand.
“Thank you, I can’t sleep. My head is pounding.”
So, now I have my phone. What do I do? Google “Migraines when pregnant”
Rule #1. DO. NOT. Get on the internet to look up reasons for various symptoms. It will likely tell you your baby is upside down and has 4 eyes.
Ooookay, well that did me no good. I found nothing but discontent on my extremely bright screen… 12:15 am…
“Ashlee…what…why aren’t you sleeping?” (in his most stern, but trying to be sincere tone)
“I have the worst migraine, and I can’t fall asleep. Google says I can take Tylenol. Can you run to Caseys for me?”
Here is where the movies and commercials go wrong…
At this very moment I’m thinking my sweet husband is going stumble out of bed with his adorable, sleepy eyes and make the first emergency trip to Caseys for me.
But instead…still attempting a calm and collective spirit.
“Honey, can you just relax? And why are you on Google. You need to talk to your Dr.”
(I could tell I had almost pushed it to the limit but yet…)
“Kirn, I’m not sleeping, so either you’re going or I am.”
And this was the moment I realized pregnancy hormones are real.
As im crawling out of bed I hear a tiny voice, “Do you want me to go?”
*Slam door on my way out*
Ugh. Why are my actions suddenly equivalent to that of a teenager who just got their phone taken away?
So, I drive to caseys with a $10 bill and hair that looks like I stuck my finger in an outlet. I walk in, grab my Tylenol and head to the counter.
Um, sir. I am 15 weeks pregnant, with hormones of a 14 yr old girl and I’m in an argument with myself wether or not I should apologize to my husband tonight or wait until the baby is born and run through all of the ridiculous actions I performed during the past 9 months.
“Yes.” Forced giggle.
Oh my gosh, can I be back home yet?
Finally, I walk back in the house. The hallway light is on and Kirn is wide awake.
“I’m sorry honey, I would have gone. I just needed time to wake up.”
Now I feel worse. Can this night be over yet?
You could have probably guessed it. The morning came way too fast and the day after was much too long. But that evening something important happened that I think should probably be noted for the next 100 times I become an irrational terror in the next 5 months.
We laughed about it. Not only did Kirn not raise his voice one time during my tossing and turning and pleads for a neck massage after I returned home from caseys, but the next morning he wrapped me in a big ol’ hug and reminded me again, why he is going to make such a wonderful father. Our saving grace in marriage has always been humor and I can only hope we continue to recognize when to laugh at ourselves.
Afterall, if I lost my sense of humor, the comparisons Kirn makes daily between myself and a cow during pregnancy or as he likes to call it, my gestation period….would probably cause week long campouts on the living room couch with the dog.