Dreaming...Not Quite Of Baby

My daily email from parenting.com today informed me that at 32 weeks gestation, brain scans have shown that "babies actually have rapid eye movements, which means they're dreaming."

What can she possibly be dreaming of? Beats me, but I can tell you what I've been dreaming of lately: evil Disney characters. Ever seen a possessed Snow White coming at you with fangs? No? Well, I did--just a few hours ago, in fact. I read in one of my pregnancy books yesterday that the dreams women have during pregnancy can be therapeutic for them--they allow women to sort through their mixed feelings about giving birth. So all I can say is that my subconscious must very much be dreading the inundation of children's DVDs soon to hit my home.

I've actually been very tired lately and I think it has something to do with me not being able to slip beyond REM sleep and into that deeper, dream-less sleep that sleep experts say you need to feel rested. REM occurs just at the edge of consciousness, which is why pregnant women (waking up every few hours for any number of reason) have so many dreams.

This is just one reason why I'm beginning to better understand just how women feel when they gripe, "Get this baby out of me!" Despite some to-be-expected setbacks, I've really enjoyed being pregnant--and I've loved feeling our little bird kicking around in there. But this is starting to change.

Though I'm still grateful that she's moving (my doctor said she loves it when women gripe about the baby's movements because it means the baby's healthy), it is beginning to take its toll on me. Not only has it been waking me up but it's been preventing me from falling asleep in the first place. And now, on top of the lack of sleep, her movements are beginning to hurt. A friend of mine told me that by the time women give birth, their insides are literally black and blue from being repeatedly kicked. I'm not sure how people would know this (C-sectioned women, perhaps?) but I definitely believe it right now. Her kicks feel very much like someone hitting away at a bruise, and while I love being able to cup the imprint of her leg in my hand, I'm beginning to love pushing that little leg back where it belongs even more.