Another freak out in the middle of the night last night. I guess that brings me to 3 really big ones during this pregnancy. My defense mechanisms and wife-of-alcoholic coping skills have completely disintegrated. It's certainly not helping my already compromised ability to sleep and my increasing late-third-trimester exhaustion. I know that I can't push Mr. b to change anything about his drinking. I'm not a dumbass. And I'm not new to this game. But I have allowed all of my previous rules (like the Drunk Bed) to slowly fade away. That's my own fault. I knew that if I had waited until he was sober to get pregnant, it would never happen. Just like those people that claim they just need to get more financially sound. Right. Good luck with that. I just never wanted to raise the child of an alcoholic. We both are. Both of our dads are now long-time sober. And none of these men have ever been abusive or anything else stereotypical that you see on TV or read about in the histrionic memoirs that are all the rage these days. But it's still stressful to see my normally wonderful husband succumb to that addiction. The beer gives him the gout and the whiskey makes him selfish and thrash in his sleep. I need him all to myself right now. I can't share him with his mistress alcohol. Sure, if he's drunk when I go into labor there will probably be plenty of time at home still for him to sober up. But who's going to help me get through the contractions in the meantime?