When it’s WOMEN whose snoring sparks war in the bedroom.
When it’s WOMEN whose snoring sparks war in the bedroom: Sleeping with a wife who snores is no laughing matter
- A quarter of women snore, with weight gain and menopause as triggers
- Nicola Simonds, 43, a full-time mum, inherited her snoring from her mother
- Charlotte Harvey-Wright, 37, causes husband Phil to leave the bed
As a wrecker of marriages, snoring is up there with infidelity and debt. Sleepless nights, frazzled nerves and separate beds: for those forced to sleep with a habitual snorer, it is no laughing matter.
Yet few people realize it is often the wife who is to blame. According to The British Snoring and Sleep Apnoea Association, nearly a quarter of women snore, with pregnancy, weight gain and the menopause common triggers.
Here, three couples whose marriages are under pressure because of snoring tell Sadie Nicholas their bedtime stories.
Snoring , like infidelity and debt, has the ability to wreck marriages, affecting people through sleeplessness
I INHERITED IT FROM MY MOTHER
Nicola Simonds, 43, a full-time mum, lives in Prestatyn with environment officer husband Steven, 48 (main picture). They have two children aged three and 17. Nicola says:
Until I was expecting our first son, Niall, 18 years ago, I had never snored. Steven tells me it started when I was around four months pregnant and stopped within weeks of the birth.
According to pregnancy experts that makes me the same as at least three out of ten mums-to-be who snore, often for the first time in their lives, particularly during the second trimester.
Apparently pregnancy weight gain, together with fluctuating hormone levels, causes the nasal tissues to swell. So when I started snoring again while pregnant with our youngest son Tyler we assumed it would pass after he was born in June 2012. Unfortunately, according to Steven, I am still snoring like a drain.
Three or four nights a week he has to wake me in an attempt to stop the racket and once a week he decamps to the sofa in the living room of our three-bedroom house. I am not even aware of my snoring but he has barely had a decent night’s sleep in three years.
Even Niall says he can hear me from his bedroom across the landing, although he tells me, rather sweetly, that he finds the sound comforting because it reminds him that I’m in the house. I can remember thinking the same about my mum’s snoring when I was a little girl so maybe that’s where I get my snoring from!
I’ve tried nasal strips [spring-like bands that fit above the flare of the nostrils]. They are supposed to ease snoring by sticking, via an adhesive on the underside, firmly to the nose. As the band tries to straighten to its original shape, the nose is lifted and nasal passages opened. Great in theory, but it made little difference.
I tried raising my pillows so I’m sleeping at an angle, again as recommended by experts. The thinking is that this position prevents the tongue sinking back in the mouth and blocking the airway but it had little effect on me.
Our sex life has diminished as a result of having, a toddler, plus a teenager with sensitive hearing in the house. It hasn’t dwindled further because of my snoring, but my self-confidence has diminished, so there is a knock-on effect.
I’m mortified that Steven has to watch and listen to me snoring; it can’t be appealing to see your wife, mouth open, snoring like a pig. I worry it may drive a wedge between us if it carries on and we sleep apart more often.
We enjoy that lovely closeness of falling asleep, legs and arms entwined. It’s one of many things that helps to foster a loving feeling towards one another and I don’t want to lose that.
Steven is very placid but my snoring causes us to snap and if I pour a glass of wine to unwind, Steven winces, aware that alcohol makes my snoring worse.
Ironically it used to be me who’d have to give Steven a bit of a nudge when he used to snore occasionally. I’ve no idea if he still snores, if he does I don’t notice. I certainly can’t remember the last time his snoring woke me up.
We have just celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary but even the security of a long marriage does not stop my snoring from leaving me feeling embarrassed and decidedly unsexy.
Husband Steven says:
Since Tyler was born, Nicola’s snoring has been relentless. It begins as a light, guttural rumble, often in the early hours, and ends as an ear-splitting crescendo.
She’s blissfully unaware, while I’m lying there desperately trying to block it out with my pillow.
I don’t see the point in both of us being exhausted, so, rather than disturb her, I tend to tiptoe down to the living room. With two children in a three-bedroom house, there’s no spare room, so the sofa is my only refuge.
If I snap at her, Nicola gets defensive, sometimes even trying to convince me that she hasn’t been snoring at all. There are heated discussions creeping into our relationship that wouldn’t exist without her snoring.
It would be tempting to retreat to the sofa every night but it’s not that comfortable, I rarely get a good night’s sleep, plus, I really want to sleep alongside my wife.
Often those moments between climbing into bed and falling asleep are the only chance we get to chat properly, make plans and take decisions. And there is nothing more comforting than feeling your partner’s arms around you in the middle of the night.
Obviously, her snoring isn’t particularly attractive, but I don’t think of Nicola as any less beautiful. It’s just that when the onslaught begins, sometimes the couch is more appealing.
I BLAME MY BAD SINUSES
Charlotte Harvey-Wright, 37, is a senior radiographer and lives near Cambridge with her husband Phil, also 37, an aerospace engineer. She says:
Littered with my toiletries, perfume and jewellery, one of our spare rooms has been turned into my personal snoring chamber while my husband, Phil, remains in the marital bedroom of our three-storey townhouse.
Although we joke about it, having to sleep apart is not remotely funny. Instead of enjoying the emotional intimacy of falling asleep in each other’s arms, we kiss goodnight at the top of the stairs and go our separate ways.
Our sex life has been reduced to a schedule – we make an effort to be intimate at weekends when we don’t have to get up for work – but sleeping in separate rooms means the spontaneity has gone. I worry that we are missing out on the closeness that sleeping together brings.
Until two years ago I’d never been a snorer. Perhaps it was triggered by the sinus congestion I’ve suffered with since I was a child, or the extra half stone I have recently gained; experts say both things can cause snoring.
Initially, Phil would dig me in the ribs and roll me on to my side to stop me snoring. When that didn’t do the trick he would storm off to one of the two spare rooms.
For a while I was in denial, out of sheer embarrassment, but a year ago, after a series of heated discussions, I sought help from my GP. She prescribed a steroid nasal spray, and more recently a nasal rinse, which are designed to dilate the nasal passages, clear congestion and ease my breathing.
Although both treatments have taken the thunderous edge off my snoring, they haven’t cured it.
Like most people, we can’t function properly without sleep. When Phil gets ratty and blames me for his exhaustion, I become defensive – I’m not doing it deliberately! Later, though, I feel guilty about how I’m affecting him and paranoid about how he might feel about me as a result.
At least four or five nights a week Phil and I sleep in separate rooms, which we know will end up creating emotional as well as physical distance between us if we don’t try to tackle it.
The subject of how to manage my snoring so that we can share the same room again is something we discuss frequently. My medication is one element of the plan, and I would also like to lose weight to see if that helps.
Although we remain positive that the situation isn’t irrecoverable yet, the priority for now is for us both to get a good night’s sleep. That in itself is helping to safeguard our relationship by preventing us from being fractious with one another.
Husband Phil says:
Charlotte’s husband Phil can hear his wife’s snores reverberating through the walls of the house
Sleep experts explain why you snore and how to stop it.
For the first few weeks after Charlotte started snoring during summer 2013, I would dig her in the ribs and then furiously stuff cotton wool into my ears and then pull a pillow around my head to try to block out the noise. ‘Do you remember me telling you to be quiet last night?’ I would snap at her the next morning.
She would have no recollection and that infuriated me even more.
She was horrified when I recorded her snoring just to prove to her how loud she is.
We hatched a plan that I would go to bed first – once I’m in a deep sleep very little will wake me – but, feeling like a clock was ticking as I waited for Charlotte to climb in too, I would lie there unable to drop off.
So the spare room became the best solution, although sometimes I can still hear her snores reverberating through the walls.
Our friends are amused by anecdotes about Charlotte’s snoring, such as me having to wake her up on a flight to New York last year when the entire plane could probably hear her.
But in the middle of the night, when we are in separate bedrooms and I still cannot get any rest, I really cannot see the funny side of it all.
Thankfully the nasal medication she has got is helping.
At weekends we do try to sleep in the same bed, or if the snoring drives us apart again, Charlotte will usually creep in to bed with me in the morning – she tends to wake earlier than I do – to ensure that we maintain at least some of the intimacy that we are missing at the moment.
Nevertheless, we both acknowledge that separate bedrooms are not conducive to a happy marriage long-term.
I WAS FINE UNTIL THE MENOPAUSE
Rose Buxton-Smith, 60, and husband Paul, 61, are driven apart because of Rose’s snoring
Rose Buxton-Smith, 60, is a receptionist at a mental health unit and lives in Maidstone, Kent, with husband Paul, 61, who works for the ambulance service. Rose has a daughter Beth, 25. She says:
Most mornings, I sleepily stretch my arm across the bed to reach for Paul only to discover he has decamped to the spare bedroom to escape my thunderous snoring. Again.
After 17 years of marriage waking to an empty bed leaves me feeling fretful and insecure. Recently, I even asked Paul if there was more to his absences from our marital bed than just my snoring. Was it that his feelings for me were dwindling, I worried?
I had never felt an inkling of insecurity in our marriage before, and as the question left my lips, I knew I was being silly. Paul reassured me that he simply needs a good night’s sleep, not least so he can function properly at work. Having occasionally woken myself up snoring, even I know how loud it is.
And if further proof was needed, when my daughter Beth and her daughters, Freya, five, and Evie, four, come to stay, she and Paul argue over the spare room, as neither wants to share a bedroom with me.
It was Beth who insisted I see my GP three years ago. Having lain awake next to me listening to my snoring one night, she was convinced that I was also suffering from sleep apnoea, where breathing stops momentarily.
My doctor referred me to Kent and Canterbury Hospital where I spent the night in a sleep chamber rigged with sensors to detect breathing patterns.
Apnoea was ruled out but there has been no let-up in my snoring, which has since defied such over-the-counter remedies as nasal breathing strips.
Although I am partial to the odd glass of wine, which doctors say can be a factor, I don’t smoke and am not overweight at a size 14. I believe the menopause is to blame and my theory may be supported by science.
After the menopause, there is a drop in levels of oestrogen and progesterone, which help protect and support muscles around the airways. Paul has complained that I snore only since I started the change in late 2010.
Paul does snore a bit sometimes but not excessively – I don’t decamp when it’s him. We are a tactile couple; we hold hands when we are out and often give one another spontaneous kisses and cuddles.
I worry how our relationship will be affected if we have to continue sleeping separately 90 per cent of the time, just as we have done for the past two years.
Husband Paul says:
Rose is away on a course in London this week and although I am missing her, I can’t deny that I am also relishing the respite from her snoring.
When it began five years ago as a gentle rumbling sound, I thought perhaps she was coming down with a cold. Now, the decibels have gone up several notches, punctuated by horrifically loud snores that could wake the whole street.
Still, I never go straight to the spare room at bedtime. It would hardly be conducive to a harmonious marriage not to at least try to fall asleep next to my lovely wife, hoping that one of these nights her snoring will cease.
The trouble is I lie in bed expecting to hear snoring at any moment and the more I anticipate it, the more elusive sleep becomes. So most nights I tiptoe to the spare room. Even then I can sometimes hear her snoring through the walls.
The only other things that wake me during the night are booming thunder and the sound of heavy rain bouncing off the roof of our conservatory below.
I don’t get angry with Rose. After all, she is not doing it on purpose and I know she feels guilty about disturbing me.
Fortunately we have a strong marriage and are conscious of not allowing this to escalate into a problem, always ensuring that we share a cuddle in our marital bed before we go to sleep.
