real estate

I have always considered myself a pretty seasoned and skilled cuddler. My mother always told me that when I was a baby, I was only happy when someone was holding me and that I loved snuggling. I spent the rest of my childhood (and beyond) honing my cuddling skills, and I have to admit, I thought I was a pretty decent cuddler. That is, until I met Abe.

Abe is, quite possibly, the world champion of cuddling. Sometimes I will wake up to discover that I have been cuddled almost out of bed; a precarious couple of centimeters is all that stands between me and a vertiginous drop to the floor. Before my belly started to become a serious bump, it was a lot easier for me to turn over and snuggle my way back a more secure position on the bed. However, my ever-growing middle–and the back pain that accompanies it–prevents me from currently employing this counter strategy. So I need to get creative.

Take this past night, for example. I woke up at 3:45 am (oh, and did I mention pregnancy has turned me into an insomniac?), unable to breathe from congestion (another perk of pregnancy. Who knew?). After lying wide-eyed and breathless for several minutes, I heaved myself out of bed and dragged myself to the kitchen, where I self-doctored via the simultaneous consumption of apples, cookies, and an article about hazelnuts in Martha Stewart Living. Feeling slightly better about my life, I wandered back to bed.

It was then that I discovered Abe, who had already cuddled me to the edge of the bed prior to my departure, had sprawled all the way to the edge of my side of the bed. I had approximately 3 inches left open for my ample form. It was time to employ the only working instrument at my disposal–my butt. This part of my figure seems determined to steal thunder from my growing belly, and has recently expanded for no reason other than purely competitive purposes.

Although this fact has previously caused me many a moment of despair, last night I was grateful. As I scooched my way into bed, I used my butt to carve out just enough space to lie on my side. And then, I waited. Every time Abe so much as twitched a muscle, I used my butt to maneuver myself into newly-freed bed real estate. By the time twenty minutes had elapsed, I had stolen enough property to make a comfortable 360 degree turn. I did a couple rotisserie-chicken like moves to revel in my newly butt-created space, but the joy soon wore off when I realized I was still awake (it was now 5:20am) and more congested than ever.

I weighed my options. Give up my new territory for another trip to the kitchen, or lie there staring at the ceiling contemplating the geometric patterns of moonlight on our ceiling. Glumly, I rolled out of bed a second time and made my way to the  kitchen.

It is now almost 7am. I am exhausted and congested, but awake. I have occupied myself with one bowl of barley-kale soup, five Martha Stewart articles, two bathroom trips, and one tooth-flossing session (to ward off pregnancy induced teeth rot). But the night’s accomplishment that makes me most proud? I type this entry from the very center of the bed. Thank-you, butt, from the bottom of my thankful belly.