Having never flown pregnant before, I had no idea how miserable I would feel when we finally landed in Chicago. I hadn’t slept well the night before, and Little Red chose not to sleep for more than his
It was the best shower I had had in recent memory. The entire bathroom had been recently renovated and had more square footage than all three of the bathrooms in our apartment combined. The shower head was large and the water pressure was heavenly generous. Even the hotel toiletries were luxurious. I felt like a new woman. I slid into the bed, taking all the pillows I needed and realized that my husband still had all the room and pillows he desired. (We even tossed some on the floor.)
I slept better than I could remember under the soft down duvet and on the perfectly firm (and not-at-all-worn-out-and-sagging-in-some-spots) mattress in the completely dark room. (I really need to get some light-blocking drapes for my apartment.) For his part, Little Red was also exhausted and allowed me to sleep for an unprecedented nine hours, and his brother only woke me a couple of times.
I awoke the first time, feeling rested and comfortable, and concerned that we were going to sleep through breakfast. I anxiously checked the clock. It was only 3:30! Not only had we not missed breakfast but I could go back to sleep. I woke once more before 7:30 when I finally decided to get up and do some quick yoga while I waited for the boys to wake. I concluded I need to stay in hotels more frequently, there’s something magic in them.