Most pregnant night ever?

I am in my bed as I type this... I am entertained by the sheer vastness of my pregnancy, as elucidated by the events of this evening. Sadly, my husband is attempting to sleep next to me... it's sad because I believe I am preventing him from fully sleeping, but feel too guilty to confirm his being awake and, therefore, cannot share the events which are causing me to dub this night - nay, this hour - the most pregnant night (hour) ever.

Nathaniel and I lived the American dream this afternoon. We spent the 70 degrees or so that a mid February afternoon offered us pulling up weeds, dirt, bushes and roots. My center of balance being greatly distorted and the hunched position NOT being the best for 32.5 weeks gestation, I absolutely exhausted myself. Since my husband had to do his part of the work, plus finish the tasks I could not, he also exhausted himself. All that to say, by 9 pm, we had surrendered to the Siren's call of our bed.

I know that early bed time is a bad thing for me. Something about my Circadian Rhythm makes me apt to wake at random times when I attempt to sleep too early. Additionally, as exhaustion overruled stomach, I ate a part of a Fresh Market Greek salad for dinner, with a spicy shrimp roll (fully cooked sushi - no worries or redirections, please... and, mom... my sugar was 107 an hour after... so, it was fine). The hour-long soak in the tub, followed by an early bedtime simply outweighed any hunger I may have been feeling (but, honestly, I don't remember feeling hunger).

Which brings us to 1:30 am. I wake up (as I thought I would). I check and make sure all houseguests were able to let themselves into the house and locked the doors behind them - check! I monitor facebook and my friends who are either maternally insomniac like me, or still have the energy, stamina, and resources to be dancing at this hour on a Saturday night - check! I get a glass of cold water to see if that assuages my restlessness - check... but, no sleep! I get out my headphones and watch "the Office" and "Community" episodes on my computer that I missed on Thursday night when I chose to watch "Big Love" with Nathaniel instead - check! An hour and a half passes... sleep? NO CHECK!

It is at this critical juncture in my night that I realize a pang I had not before. At a few minutes before 3 am, I realize I am hungry. No like, hmmm... maybe a Krispy Kreme or some other miscellaneous food craving kind of hungry... hungry like that Shrimp roll is no longer sustaining my body's exertions through the night, my child is kicking my butt (literally from the inside) and I want food... now.

Ensuring the houseguests are snug in the nursery with a fully closed door and that Hector is not disturbed from his slumber and that I minimally disturb what I suspect to be Nathaniel's faux sleep, I get out of bed... in my very large pink nightgown... and slip downstairs (n.b. please read all possible irony into a 32.5 week gestated woman "slipping" downstairs at 3 am for food. We know it is more of a lumbering, nearly violent gesture at this point in my life.).

As I am preparing my chicken breast sandwich on whole wheat, I look up and scare myself with the reflection in the microwave door - my hair is sticking out in all directions, betraying a deeper rest than I have gotten all night. Nonetheless, as I look at my full body reflection across the room, the terror of a very hungry, very pregnant, scary-haired woman was so comical! The Bigfoot image of a round woman draped in pink as she scarfs a sandwich at an ungodly hour was entertaining in a black comedy sort of way. As every man in the house slept soundly nearby and the purr of the newly started dishwasher was my only accompaniment, I had to giggle to myself - especially when I reached for a small handful of baking chocolate to finish the sandwich before heading back to bed.

As I have never... I repeat NEVER... done anything like this food excursion, I feel pretty safe in deciding that this adventure is pregnancy-inspired. I am now warm in my bed again, with the rumbly-tummy somewhat happier (I am refusing to eat ANYTHING else at this hour). Hector is nestled next to me and my husband now breathes the deep, consistent breaths of a true sleep. I do not feel any closer to sleep and have an episode of "Parenthood" and "Private Practice" to look forward to, should I not be sleepy in the near future.

This nocturnal feast has me asking a few questions, though: Will the blood sugar reading I take in the morning actually be a fasting blood sugar now? Should I test in an hour? Does anyone else start the dishwasher at 3 am? How could I really still want more to eat? How much dignity does one lose for the sort of feasting I just did? Should I brush my teeth again? How am I going to wake up at a rational hour now? Why is it that every man in this house is happily sleeping while I am doing fetal kick counts and considering the character development of the child with Autism on "Parenthood"?

Most of all, though, I am wondering if this night is the most pregnant night ever?