Third Trimester Blues

You know how early in pregnancy you see those ginormous maternity pants and think “I’ll never fit in those” — or you hear preggos talking about not being able to see their feet or get out of bed without struggling and decide “that won’t be me” — as if the rules of pregnancy somehow don’t apply to you?

Eight months later, those ginormous maternity pants are too small, you can’t see your feet, and getting out of bed requires a four-step process: roll onto the side, push up with hands, slide off bed feet first, stand.

This is my reality, yet I’m still fighting it. This morning I decided to wear a summery dress to run my errands for the day and to disguise the dark circles under my eyes. I tried three options – a wrap dress from before I was pregnant, a non-maternity dress that’s a few sizes larger than I normally wear, and a maternity dress I bought 4 months ago. Guess which one fit?

That’s right, NONE of them. The wrap dress was the funniest – the loose folds of material that used to encircle me almost twice over didn’t even close in the front. Not mommy-appropriate, I decided.

So at a little over 33 weeks, it’s starting to hit me: I am super pregnant.

Strangers notice, comment, and smirk. One lady said yesterday, "Wow, your...your all baby!" And I know, that's supposedly a nice comment, but that's just it. I'm ALL baby. My belly is sooo tight and this extra weight is something my little frame is not used too.

 My sleep has gone to you-know-where. My husband has taken to calling me “the purple penguin” as I waddle around the house in my fuzzy purple robe with the sash tied in the only comfortable spot — right under my huge breasts. (Did I really once say that pregnancy is sexy?)

And I have seven more – seven more! – weeks of growing to do. Boo hoo hoo hoo.

Complaining about all this can feel icky … ungrateful somehow, even dangerous, as if I’m tempting fate. I know I'll want so much to have another child, and I know how lucky I am to be a healthy expecting mom.

When I was trying to get pregnant, I had twinges of jealousy when I saw super-pregnant women. They seemed so secure, solid, and satisfied in the knowledge that their baby was arriving soon. Or were they just worn out and counting the days until they could be non-pregnant?! Now that I’ve joined their ranks, I’m just not sure!