Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Honey, I love you, but…

I’ve written in the past about parts of my family life. I’ve admitted to being married a long, l….o….n….g time to my college sweetheart. We’ve raised two wonderful sons and have stored away many precious memories over the years.

We’ve also survived financial woes, losing jobs and homes, deaths of family and friends. We’re dealing now with the problems of aging Baby Boomers, but I know our love will see us through…except for the one thing that might do us in: My husband snores like a buzz-saw.


When he snores, the wall behind our bed shakes.

I’m not kidding! My family will back me up on this!

I wish I had the guts to video him, like this poor beleagered wife, but so far I haven't. (This guy is actually mild compared to my beloved.)

If you’re going to tell me to try earplugs, don’t bother. I already have. I cleaned out the supply of the various types in the local Walmart at one point. None of them work against his snoring. They block out everything BUT his snoring. I can’t hear the alarm or any ambient noise, but I CAN HEAR HIS SNORING.

He’s not insensitive to the problem. He’s tried the nose strips, from regular to super-duper that elite athletes use to allow them to suck air while they’re sprinting after a ball, or from a defender. He’s tried an anesthetic spray that’s paralyzes the tissue in the throat that vibrates (and somehow allows him to still breathe). He’s talked to his dentist about mouth guards – we’re still waiting an opinion on that one.

In the meantime, I’ve tried all sorts of solutions. I’ve tried creating white noise. A fan runs nightly in our bedroom, regardless of temperature or time of year. When it’s not too ghastly hot or cold, I’ll also open the window to add the sounds of the neighborhood. It helps, but now winter is setting in, and even in southeastern Virginia, that can equate to a lot of cold air seeping into the house at night.

When the snoring first got bad, I’d try giving a gentle nudge against his arm, and glory be, the snoring would stop. But he acclimated to my nudging, and soon the nudge turned into a shove. I’m worried it’s going to turn into a hearty elbow jab to the ribs if things continue as they are.

Our most recent attempt has been the addition of a bed pillow. He hugs it at night like he used to hug me, before he started making buzz-saw noises in my ear. If he’s in a certain position, the airway seems to open enough so that the snoring is counteracted. (He calls the pillow “Catherine,” by the way, for Catherine Zeta Jones. Sigh. Only a 30-something-year marriage can survive a bedroom intrusion by Catherine Zeta Jones, don’t you think?)

Sometimes when it gets bad, I start humming to myself. It doesn’t drown him out, but it occasionally wakes him. I figure it’s non-violent, so acceptable.

At this point, we’re about out of options. The only solution left is for one of us to head for the couch downstairs. And I have taken that trip from time to time, but something in me resists a permanent change.

For one, I’m stubborn, and feeling put upon. Why should I have to sleep on the couch because HE snores? I mean, it’s my room too! For another, I just don’t like the idea of sleeping separately. It feels like evil forces are trying to make us give up that part of our shared life. (The old country song “Sleeping Single in a Double Bed” jumps into my head.)

For now, I’ll keep running the fan, welcoming “Catherine” into the bed, and humming myself to sleep. After a lifetime together, I’m not ready to surrender to the snore.

By day, Leah works as a mild-mannered book blogger (among other things) at her local newspaper, but at night, she lets her imagination run wild, crafting stories of romance, suspense, murder, mayhem and love. Always love. Read more about Leah at


Alexandra Anderson has a loving husband who provides for her every need. 

Sam Herrmann is married to his college sweetheart, and together they have three healthy, boisterous boys. 

What happens when two married people take a look at the perfect lives they've created and decide it's not enough? What happens when those same two people catch the eye of a stranger, and like what they see?

Christmas Dance
A story of love , marriage and parenthood.
A story of hope.


  1. My husband used to snore like that, but luckily he also had sleep apnea, (well, luckily for me, maybe not for him) and had to start using a breathing machine at night which treated the apnea, and also stopped the snoring! People outside our house used to be able to hear him, now all is quiet. I feel for you.

    1. A couple people have suggested that. I think it's on the list of things to check out!