5 Things You Might Lose During Pregnancy

....other than your mind.

Your organs.

By month 9, it seems like baby is everywhere--kicking you in the ribs, headbutting your pubic bone, punching you in the belly button. So . . . where's everything that used to be in your abdomen?? Apparently it's all still squished in there, which is why you feel stomach grumbles under your lungs and you get indigestion from the blandest food. Things have slowed waaaaaaaay down as your food struggles to find its way through the new maze that is your internal organs. Tip: avoid soy. It takes an effort to digest when you're not pregnant . . .

Your ankles

If you didn't have cankles before pregnancy, you probably will by month 9. And it's got nothing to do with all that Valentine's Day candy you've been chomping. (Well, maybe not nothing.) You're full of all kinds of extra fluids, and since very few of us are employed in a career that involves keeping our feet above our heads, you'll find it pooling up in your legs and feet by the end of the day. They say to drink plenty of water and cut back on salt. I haven't found this to be particularly helpful, but hey, give it a shot.

Your breasts

You still have breasts, but they're not yours. They're somebody else's, clearly. They're larger, oddly shaped, criss-crossed with bright blue veins and sometimes painful. You have to buy new bras to rein them in. And rumor has it you'll get a whole new set of someone else's breasts when you start breastfeeding!

Your fashion sense

Remember before you got pregnant, you would look at pregnant women in over-sized tshirts and yoga pants and think, "I won't be that lazy about dressing when I'm pregnant!"? Here's the secret: it's not laziness. Well, in some cases it might be. But no matter how diligent you are about dressing well, by month 9, your clothes simply do. not. fit. Maternity shirts are too short to cover your protruding belly, and elastic waist pants will expand to accommodate your belly, but not your butt. Don't even get me started on shoes. And who's going to buy new, bigger maternity clothes when you're going to give birth in a month? No one. Unless maybe you're independently wealthy. Which brings me to the last point . . .

Your paycheck

Babies cost money. 

The end.

A Woman and Her Snoogle: A Love/Hate Relationship

I often wonder which is worse: having a newborn, and therefore having far fewer opportunities for sleep; or being in your third trimester and being unable to get a good night's sleep, despite numerous opportunities.

I guess I'll find out soon enough.

(And for the record, I plan to shamelessly "sleep when the baby sleeps," no matter what my house looks like.)

I've always favored stomach sleeping, so I knew pregnancy would present a challenge.

(I've never been a back sleeper, which I guess is ok because sleeping on your back while pregnant might kill you. Or turn you into a zombie. Or something. I don't remember the details, just the "no back sleeping" part.)

But side sleeping was working out fairly well, until early in the third trimester. 

That's when I started being awakened in the night by stabbing pains in my hips and lower back.

(I had a sneaking suspicion that my husband was actually jabbing me with a fork, then rolling over and feigning sleep, but upon further inspection, he appeared to be fork-less.)

It seems all that side sleeping, combined with a growing baby pressing on your nerves and pushing your bones out of place, can lead to horrific pain that interrupts your sleep, at just that crucial time period when everyone and their brother is telling you to sleep like you've never slept before.

A pillow between the knees did little for me, so I dropped $50 on the well-reviewed Snoogle. 

The reason this post isn't appearing on "Mom-saver Mondays" is because I honestly can't decide whether the Snoogle is my best friend, or my worst enemy. 

I mean, it really helps me sleep . . . except when it doesn't.

Generally, our nighttime routine goes something like this.

Phase 1: Wrestle Snoogle into place under the covers, then try to climb into bed over it. Fail miserably. Pick self up off floor to attempt entry #2. Fold Snoogle out of the way, scoot under it, then spend 10 minutes pushing and shoving it into place.

Phase 2: Ahhhh! Snoogle is in perfect position--1 end under head, the other tucked between knees and thighs, and long side tucked firmly behind back. This is the most comfortable I've ever been.

Phase 3 (15 minutes later): Why does this pillow make my ear hurt?? So weird. Push head end off to the side and use regular pillow.

Phase 4 (about 2 hours later):  One side of nose is stuffed. In the interest of breathing, struggle to roll over and resituate self and Snoogle. Finally get comfortable enough to doze off.

Phase 5 (10 minutes later): Crap. I have to pee. Peel back covers, shove top half of Snoogle to the side, scoot under it, half-tumble out of bed and make way to the bathroom. Upon return to bed, repeat Phase 1.

(Note: Phase 5 may repeat during Phases 6 and/or 7.)

Phase 6 (several hours later): Awaken to stabbing back pains. Snoogle has been kicked out of place and top half is dangling over nightstand, threatening to knock several piles of crap onto the floor. Haul it back in to bed and squash under self. 

Phase 7 (rest of the night): Brief periods of restful, relatively pain-free sleep, interrupted every time body feels the need to roll over and finds Snoogle blocking the way. Spend far too many minutes awake, reaccommodating Snoogle. Finally grow so frustrated with Snoogle, throw it out of bed around 6am, and sleep for another 30 minutes, propping top knee on annoyed husband.

So, to sum up, it really does help alleviate hip and back pain, but causes so many other frustrations, it's hard to decide if it's worth it. I go to bed with it every night, ready to write it a love poem, and wake up every morning ready to chuck it out the window.

(Insert obvious "Kinda like my husband" joke here.)