Night terrors

     Anyone who's been pregnant knows the irony it creates with regards to sleep. You are tired- more tired than you've ever been in your life, and yet as your sixth month waxes, sleep begins to elude you. Your hips hurt, your back hurts and in my case at least, your mind start to run amok about anything and everything. Hormones are so annoying.

There I am at 28 weeks, the estrogen just keeps going up, up, up!

     After the first few night I spent awake in our resort I was convinced that my state of sleeplessness was entirely due to my mental/physical state. I therefore began to pour over the yoga texts I'd brought along for help in the meditation department. I figured that if I could reign in my monkey-mind, then I could talk myself into sleeping...but after about the third day I started to wonder whether it wasn't just me.
     To my pregnant hips, the bed felt as soft as the cobblestone street outside and about as lumpy too. But Trevor was starting to complain about the same thing. You could gain a bit of comfort if you shifted ever so slightly to the left or right, just off of the offending spring. But it was temporary.

     Then Trevor started to complain about mosquito bites. That was fishy. Mosquitoes are not really a problem in Mexico and you are hard-pressed to find patio doors or windows with screens in them, simply because you don't need them...I didn't think it was mosquitoes. Sand flies maybe? But we had only spent a few days on the beach and Trevor'd been getting bites before that...then with startled revelation we realized what it must be...BED BUGS
     EWWWW gross gross gross gross! So while we were trying to sleep these nasty crawly bugs were creeping over our bodies and sucking our blood, burrowing into our clothing and hoping to hitch a ride back to Canada.

     The air conditioner was the icing on the cake though. We couldn't just leave the patio door open for a blessed breeze because of the night club next door. It is hard enough to fall asleep on the hardest bed on earth without having to listen to "don't be a drag, just be a queen." blaring all night long. The air conditioner was placed above our bed and  had it emitted a soft and constant hum as well as a refreshing breeze, sleep would have been able to hold us in its soft arms and rock us gently into lala land. Instead, in a premeditated state of calm, the air conditioner would run smoothly, lulling us into the comfortable state of relaxation that precedes sleep, then with the maliciousness of a serial killer it would rev it's fan to a deafening decibel, and jar us back into the land of SUCKS-TO-BE-YOU! If air conditioners could talk this one was saying, "Hey cabrone, no siesta for you. You no want to sleep, you want to fiesta! ARRIBA ARRIBA ONDOLE!"  Piece of crap air conditioner jerk!
     My only consolation was the love seat in the next room. Oh I could still hear the air conditioner alright, and even my 5 foot three frame couldn't fit comfortably on the tiny couch. I am also perfectly aware that bed bugs live not just in beds, but in couches as well, but at least my hips stopped hurting and that small piece of comfort gave me two to three hours a night.
During the day we were fine, despite the odd moments when I would cry for no reason (I repeat, hormones and sleep deprivation are so annoying), but as evening approached and we knew we'd have to once again do battle with our bed my level of anxiety would skyrocket. I've never actually said this in complete honesty about a holiday before, but I was starting to lose it...I wanted to go home.