Every night at bed time is a battle in our house, but it’s not what you are thinking. Oh no, Leina heads off to bed like a little angel and talks herself to sleep while snuggling with Elmo. No, it’s her little sister who is putting up a fight.

Every night, baby sister and I duke it out. Every night, I toss and turn until the wee hours of the morning because this unborn child I am carrying is a horrible sleeper. This does not bode well.

For those not familiar with the “joys” of pregnancy, one thing your OB will tell you is that you have to change your sleeping habits. You can not longer sleep on your belly (but this is a no-brainer really). More importantly, as you progress in your pregnancy, you are no longer allowed to sleep on your back. I guess the weight of the kid, et al, is so great that it will squish your organs and cut off circulation to your lower extremities. I don’t know about the organ squishing but I can vouch for the circulation cut off. After about 15 minutes on my back, I begin to loose feeling in my legs and toes. It isn’t very pleasant.

So as a fat pregnant woman, I am stuck with sleeping on either my right or left side. No big deal really, I’ve always been a side sleeper. But the problem isn’t me, the problem is the kid. She *hates* to be smushed. When I roll onto my side she erupts with violence. Kicking, punching, hitting, pinching, and even (I believe) biting me in her unborn fury. She goes “open loop” when I lie on my side. And so, there I am, trying to fall asleep while a mini tasmanian devil lets loose on my innards. After 20 minutes or so I cave and roll onto my back. The small black belt in my belly immediately subsides her protest and drifts off into calm sleep. 20 minutes later, I’ve lost feeling below my knees and my bladder is near bursting from the pressure of the sumo wrestler in my belly so I roll to my other side. This, of course, is like ringing the bell between boxing rounds and my mini-Ali leaps from her fetal stool into action attacking me with a fury only the unborn possess.

And so it goes. Side. Punches. Back. Numbness. Side. Punches. Back. Numbess. Eventually, around 2am, I’m so exhausted that even being mauled from inside no longer keeps me awake and I fall into a fitful doze. I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep without being pummled. It’s some freaky form of maternal abuse that has yet to be recognized by the legal system.

Kevin, in his infinate compassion, has forbidden me from lying too close to his back. He says feeling the baby kicking in my belly keeps him up. Heaven forbid!

So here I am, tired and ready to sleep, but knowing that ahead of me lies a battle I simply cannot win. I figure this is not a good sign. Baby sister isn’t even born and already she’s kicking my belly. Literally! Ack!