Attack of the Night Farts

Even though I am always exhausted lately, I have had some trouble sleeping at night because, you know, my body totally hates me and love to see me suffer. (Oh wait -- you probably already know I suffer from insomnia, right?) Because I can't get to sleep until after 1 AM lately, I lay in my bed with my sleeping husband on the left and my sleeping dog on the floor on the right. It's so sad to watch others sleep when you are wide awake. But last night? I faced a deadly DEADLY situation. One that almost took the life of my unborn child.


It was the night farts.


I mean, when I am awake for like five hours after my husband falls asleep, I expect I might encounter a fart or two. Everyone farts in their sleep. EVERYone. If you are reading this and thinking you are exempt, you are a fool about farting. I have done extensive research and am basically a PhD in night farting, so ... trust me.


Okay, so I smelled a Jeremy night fart. No big. I rolled over and thought to myself, Man, I really love this guy if I am cheerfully able to ignore a stinky fart. WAIT, this makes me a GOOD WIFE. No, a GREAT wife. Oh my god, I am the world's best wife.  Well done, Veronica.  Well-freakin'-DONE!


Now, it WAS a fart, so it was a little stinky, but I was holding my own. That is ... until the a new smell wafted over my face. DOG fart. Now that is not a lovely smell.  I sat up, terrified.

Then, as they both continued wafting, wafting, wafting toward me, I realized what was happening. What happens when the fart of an average man combines with that of a canine?  That's right. They combined into one über-fart

Immediately, I covered my nose to keep out the smell. AHHH! Too hard to breathe with my lovely child pressing my lungs into tiny three-inch pockets of air. I sat, wondering what to do, until I realized what I was doing -- allowing the über-fart to ENTER MY BODY, meaning it would travel down the umbilical cord to my tiny, innocent baby!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!

I covered my mouth as well before I realized that meant NO breathing at all. That is also not beneficial for a baby in utereo (or so I've heard).  

I began frantically trying to scramble toward the end of the bed to escape, but my massive child hanging off the front of my body makes it highly impossible to "scramble" anymore. Or dash. Or do anything quickly. Especially get out of bed. I began clawing at the foot of the bed, trying to use handfuls of comforter to pull my way to freedom.

Five minutes later I was still struggling like a turtle on its back, so I gave up, collapsed on the foot of the bed and cried a little about my baby swimming around in fart-laced amniotic fluid.  

It was a sad night: the night of the attack of the night farts, the night I realized my child is in constant danger that I hadn't planned for or previously worried about.

And if the baby comes out smelling like fart? The world knows who to blame (hint: NOT ME).