Last night, I was reminded of an old nemesis. One whom I’d not thought of in quite sometime. But this foe’s absence from my mind is not to say that he was a forgettable one. For he was not. In fact, at one point, he haunted my every sleeping hour.
But it’s been so long that I must admit, I had, indeed, forgotten about him. Until I climbed into bed last night alongside my wife, that is. And though he was a mere shadow of his former self, I know all too well that it’s only a matter of time before he rears his ugly head again.
And when he does, it’s bound to get ugly. I’m talking, of course, about the third trimester snore.
At least that’s when it started last time. By week 29 or so, Caroline was experiencing extreme discomfort. Nighttime was the worst. She frequently and laboriously got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. She had so much baby inside of her (three to be precise) that her bladder seemed squished to half the size. She was also instructed by Dr. Saraceno to keep her bladder as empty as possible. A full one could cause unwanted contractions.
When she wasn’t moaning soft sighs of pain or waddling to and from the bathroom, she kept the nighttime interesting with what can best be described as legendary snoring efforts. Now I realize full well that most everyone snores. In fact, I am no exception. And neither is Caroline. But her pre-pregnancy snoring episodes were cute little congestion-type noises that were easily stopped by a gentle nudge. Sure, her snoring could keep me up if I was already awake, but it wasn’t anything that could stir me from even the lightest of cat naps.
The third trimester snore, however, put the fear of God in me, even if it occurred during my deepest slumber. Its advent would cause me to shoot up from the bed, my head on a swivel, searching high and low for the lumberjack with the five o’clock shadow who was responsible for the terrifying tremors I could actually feel vibrating inside of me. But each time, it was my tiny little wife housing our three embryos in her big belly lying awkwardly to her left who was responsible for shaking the house down to the studs, not some ax-wielding he-man snoozing under a tree next to his tied-up blue ox.
Responsible for shaking the house down to the studs with her third trimester snore.
And last night, I heard him. At least his relative. For this was no third trimester snore, but rather, a mere distant cousin — the second trimester snore. And that’s why I’ve been thinking of my erstwhile foe. Because his underling told me last night that he’d be upon me soon.
In about ten weeks or so.