Thursday, November 30, 2006

Pillows

I am a pillow connoisseur.
Things haven't always been this way. When I married Dyami at 25, I was still using the synthetic fiber-fill pillow (I think) I'd been using since second grade.
I think the pillow industry recommends changing your pillow every 2 years.
That's a lot of dust mites, people.
Then I slept with Dyami's down pillow a few times. "It actually cradles your head," I marveled. Dyami increased my pillow awareness (and snobbishness) when he got me a super-deluxe pillow for Christmas one year. Memory foam core, surrounded by real down. It's firm and soft, all at once.
This is a serious pillow. I think the down was picked by monk amputees. With their teeth. (Ptooie.)
This pillow came with a serious price tag.
And we've been unable to find another one as nice.
So then began the pillow wars. I'm a lot (a LOT) less aware than Dyami, so he'd steal my pillow as we were getting ready for bed, and I wouldn't notice the sub-par pillow for days. Or nights, rather. Then I'd notice I wasn't nearly as comfy as before. I'd pick up D's pillow, and sure enough! The switcheroo.
I got him a pillow (foam core, down fill) but it wasn't as nice. I cried a few times, and finally gave in. I took the sub-par pillow, he took the nice one. I mean, if I didn't notice for several nights, he obviously needed it more than me.
Then I got pregnant.
Even Dyami wouldn't take a pillow from a pregnant lady.

But the positive preggers test was only the beginning of our pillow journey. After a few months I was supposed to start sleeping on my side. I'm a back sleeper, and needed some help. So back to Bed Bath and Beyond for a body pillow.
We called it Mr. Pillow for a while, until Dyami slept with Mr. Pillow once during a nap. And then it was Pat.
He (Dyami) was tempted to steal Pat, too, but again, I was pregnant.
I told him he could have Pat after I gave birth.

How could I have known that birth multiplies the need for pillows by approximately 1076 percent?

After Lucy, I had to nurse. At first, I used every pillow in the house. Boppy, three pillows behind my back, neck pillow to help me sleep. Pillows alongside to prop up her head. I slowly got the hang of nursing laying down, but that required Pat (sorry, honey), and several pillows besides.
I nursed so much that it felt like the only things touching me those first weeks were the pillows. No one else could get close enough.

After three months, I've found the combination of pillows that seems to work:
On couch: boppy, two firm navy pillows, one small tan pillow.
On bed: two off-white couch pillows, bed pillow between legs. Small pillow for side-sleeping if Lucy's not nursing. Two pillows or more on floor because I'm afraid of her rolling off the bed. Not to mention the monk-plucked special pillow.
Dyami still has Pat (s/he turned out not to be firm enough for nursing) and his compromise pillow.

We're both small people, have a tiny baby and a king sized bed.

There's not enough room.

And now I'm super-territorial about pillows. When we have people over and they move my couch pillows, I'm shocked and appalled. I'm using those, I think, smiling through clenched
teeth.

We're trying to let go.

Now my only problem is my original, super-special monk pillow. We've come and gone past two years' usage, and there's no way I'm throwing it away for a lesser pillow.
Could a pillow count as an heirloom? Maybe Lucy can use it as part of her dowry.
If I'm willing to part with it then.

3 comments:

Melissa said...

This is so funny... except the part about Dyami, Pat, and the compromise pillow. That part just seems very sad. ;) And now I have to go buy all new pillows.

So are you holding out hope of eventually finding an even better pillow, thus relegating the monk-plucked to compromise pillow status?

Heather said...

I don't think there is a better pillow. I don't think it exists. This is my problem. I have no pillow hope.

Melissa said...

Hey! I posted another comment here yesterday, something about pillow hopelessness. Oh well, maybe blogger ate it. Anyhow, um, pillow hopelessness. Not so good.