One night in hell

Here's how it goes:

Sore throat, splitting headache, can't take medicine, go to bed with just a hot cup of milk.

Sleep for an hour, Krusty starts snoring. Shake Krusty to change his position. "You're wrong, I'm not snoring, I can't hear anything" he says.

Sleep in 10 minute intervals until Krusty starts snoring/coughing or my thigh starts throbbing because of the vena cava (a craftily placed vein that means that pregnant women, to whom the front is already off limits in terms of sleeping positions, can also rule out sleeping on their back or their right hand side).

Wake up again, decide to move rooms (thank god for the guest bedroom). Realise my nose is bleeding (because varicose veins during pregnancy don't only occur in the legs, apparently). Prepare another hot milk.

Sleep for a few hours, until Krusty becomes his usual morning puppy-like self (albeit a little toned down by the coughing at the moment) and bursts in to ask why I am in a different bed (all memory of me shaking him awake for two hours last night completely gone).

Prepare hot lemon tea. Bring it back to bed. Spill it all over my chest. Consider leaving it for a moment, as the warmth actually soothes me a little, until the honey starts sticking my top to my skin.

Change tops. New one doesn't fit around my bump. Collapse onto the bed, depressed and tired.

Consider my life. I used to spend some nights enjoying the city with my friends, sleeping like a ton of bricks and waking up with a hangover, at worst. And that could be solved with a fry up, which due to heavy meat content is also off limits at the moment.

Not to mention the life awaiting us in three months, when there will be one extra distraction from sleep to factor in.

What have we done?!