There are lots of similarities between the first and third trimester. Barfing and nausea become your calling card. Your body aches in places it never ached before. I mean, my shoulders hurt. My shoulders! I’m waiting for my toenails to also jump ship. They’d find a way to punish me.
Also, you’re exhausted through and through. The only time I remember feeling this tired in the past was when I was pulling all-nighters in grad school trying to translate Sir Gawain and the Green Night from ye olde English and then attempting to come up with something intelligent to say about it in class. If you think coming up with content for something as straightforward as a pregnancy blog is at times tenuous, just think about trying to impress professors whose CVs are as long as your undergrad thesis. Who knew that medieval scholars can wear you out at the same frequency as a wee little baby in utero?
But for me, the biggest similarity between the first and third trimester is the everyday realization that WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A BABY! I seemed to have kind of gotten over our impending Bebe in the easy-peasy second trimester, but now I am reminded every single day that she is going to be here so soon and once she arrives I’ll know her forever. It’s crazy! It’s awesome! It’s crawesome! Even though pregnancy itself is a little old-hat by now, the idea that this little person who I’ve thought so much about over the last months is really materializing and will be in my life and in my arms soon is overwhelming and exciting.
So, a few notes:
I ordered more maternity clothes. Why? Because I grew out of the first round. When my mom and I went shopping for maternity clothes back in October, she kept saying that my body was going to expand in ways I thought absolutely impossible. As much as I hate to admit it because I still suffer from residual teenage angst, she was right. I am getting big. Bebe is getting big!
But I still reserve the right to be the ONLY person – aside from my doctor who can advise me objectively about my weight gain – who is allowed to comment on my size.
To the La Brea bread slicer lady at the grocery store: Keep your thoughts to yourself. And give me that loaf of ciabatta while doing so.
To the H&R Block tax consultant: I don’t care to discuss my girth with you. It’s weird enough that I’m discussing with you, a complete stranger, exactly how much money we made last year. If you found out any more sensitive information about me, I’d either have to kill or marry you, and I’d really prefer to do neither.
To the Subway “Sandwich Artist”: I am fully aware that I look about ready to pop, but I promise I won’t hold you responsible when that Veggie Delite you’re about to hand over does it.
Pregnant women are not public property and are not up for discussion. If we volunteer information about how we look, it is always always best to be supportive and positive in your comments. Even if a pregnant woman is indeed gaining a lot, there’s not a lot she can do about it because she can’t just try to reduce by putting herself on a low-carb diet and having an hour-long cardio workout everyday. No one – whether they’re perfect strangers, family, or anyone in between – has the right to make flip, inconsiderate comments about a pregnant woman’s size and what they perceive to be her progress. Her body is doing some really amazing things right now and should be respected.
I’m going to have a baby shower! On Friday I’m going to Memphis for my shower on Saturday. My besfrinn Cameron’s awesome mom Mary Beth is throwing the shindig for Miss Bebe, and some of my closest friends and family who I don’t get to see too often are going to be there. I’m a little cagey about traveling by myself, but since I’ll only be there until Tuesday and I’ve gotten the go-ahead to travel from my doctor, I realize that I’m just busying myself with one more thing to worry about. Bebe’s still got some cooking to do and won’t be making an appearance for a few more weeks.
The extra room is actually looking like a nursery. I am by no stretch of the imagination good with “transforming spaces” or whatever Nate Berkus would say. The only reason I liked the way we had things at our apartment in Chicago was because the apartment itself was old and had character and was easy to decorate because it was so antiquated. By contrast, our current apartment has the personality of oatmeal. And that’s not even being fair to oatmeal because all you have to do is stir any number of delicious embellishments into it and it becomes awesome. No amount of cinnamon, butter, strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate chips, coconut, or banana could redeem the place where we’re currently residing.
However, the nursery is now officially coming together. Over the weekend, B and I got to work on putting the crib and changing table together. Yesterday I hung some posters that we got when we were in Korea and put Bebe’s little swing rocker together. It was so easy! It is so cozy and a cuteness extravaganza!