Nightmare

Many years ago, shortly after the birth of my first child, I was plumb exhausted--all the time. Now, I'm not generally a deep sleeper, as evidenced by the fact that nighttime feeding/changing/nightmare duty has always fallen to me (by the time I woke Matt up sufficiently to take care of things, I could have it done and been back in bed). Well, I must have been so exhausted from general lack of sleep that one evening I fell deeply asleep, asleep enough to dream, which is an extremely rare occurrence in my life.

This particular night, I began to dream that I needed to go to the bathroom (you can see where this is going). I dreamed an urgent need to find a toilet and the blessed relief when I came upon one. And then, the further, ultimate relief when I um, relieved myself.

Then suddenly, I realized I wasn't dreaming. Oh, I was dreaming about the toilet, just not about the peeing. I woke up--mid-stream. I panicked and shot out of bed, heading for real bathroom. I did not however, have the presence of mind, nor the muscle tone, to pause the stream. So, not only did I pee the bed, I also peed the floor all the way between the bed and the toilet. Nice.

I was absolutely horrified. I believe I started to cry as I began to clean up the mess.

I can't believe I peed the bed!! I'm a grown woman! I quietly sobbed to myself, hoping and not hoping that Matt would wake up and help or make fun of me. He did--wake up, groggily of course.

What's wrong?

I peed the bed.

Oh, are you okay?

Yes. Just don't tell anyone!

Okay. Do you need help?

No.

Okay. . . . snore.

I finished cleaning and went back to bed, still crying. I woke up the next morning laughing hysterically. I can't believe I peed the bed!! And promptly called my friends and family to laugh over the whole incident. I don't know that they were nearly as amused (I was obviously still a bit hormonal), but I certainly was entertained.