While most Americans were celebrating the fourth this past weekend, we were celebrating the third on the fourth...the beginning of the third trimester, that is!!! I spend most of my time sitting around thinking, "I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening." While I never truly gave up on the hope of this becoming reality one day, there were times I accepted I may never see my belly grow. But, grow it has and we are approximately two months away from being parents.
Readers have been on my case lately about why I haven't posted that much during my pregnancy. There are two reasons for that. One-I don't want to be one of those people who are all "in your face" with, "LOOK AT ME, I'M PREGNANT". I can't do the weekly chalk boards with the changing produce every week. It doesn't make sense to me how one week the baby is the size of a corn cob and the next, baby is the size of a rutabaga. First of all, if my kid looks like an ear of corn, I don't want to advertise it. I want to seek medical attention ASAP because something is CLEARLY wrong. Second of all, WTF is a rutabaga? If I have to Google Image the vegetable that my kid is compared to, it's a waste of my time. And last but not least, unless the fertility clinic mixed up Mike's sperm with a member of the Fruit of the Loom crew, I feel fairly confident my rapidly expanding mid-section contains a human baby. Or at least something that remotely resembles one.
Most women who I see doing these things are first time moms, just like me. I get it. We are beyond thrilled our dream is coming true. We want to share it with every single person we meet. I feel like I'm a part of this secret pregnant lady society because whenever I see another random pregnant person, we give each other a little wave or a sly smile. It's like when I'm riding with Mike in his big, jacked-up truck. When we meet other big, jacked-up trucks, whether he knows the driver or not, they give each other a wave. I mean, do they have secret big, jacked-up truck meetings they attend? Are they card-carrying members? Sheesh.
I don't want to hate on those soon-to-be moms for taking every advantage of letting the world know they are about to become parents. If anyone has a right to do those things, it's me, for cryin' out loud. I just feel like it's too much for the women who are still suffering to have to see every waking second of my pregnancy on their newsfeeds. Whenever I leave the doctor's office, especially if I have ultrasound pics in my hand, I hide them in my purse instead of gushing over them while making my next appointment. We've been the couple standing next to them who were just told they'd lost another pregnancy. It's tough.
The second reason I've been slack with the posts is because...I'm not the first nor only girl to be pregnant. SHOCKER. With every new symptom I come across, I share with other female friends or family. Their response has always been, "well just wait, it gets worse" or "uh-huh, I remember that". Having heard these responses for weeks now, it seemingly has taken me down a few notches. I haven't experienced anything different from what anybody else has. None of it is exciting to other women who have kids. Things that baffle me make my mom-friends roll their eyes with boredom. I just have to face facts and the fact is: I'm not a special case anymore. I'm just a big, waddling human whose body has to take one for the team in order for our kid to make it here.
You all know I'm a major fan of lists. I can't function if I don't have numbers or bullets or icons. I have lists for my lists. The concept of Buzzfeed was stolen from me, I'm positive. Today, I'd like to showcase some of the concerns (via you guessed it, a list!) of the "Only If You're Pregnant in the Third Trimester in July Club". This is for my summer pregnancy sistahs who are currently out of breath just from sitting there reading this.
My Concerns During the Third Trimester...in July:
1. Landscaper for Hire: I like to keep things in tip-top shape, down there. Much like coloring, I like landscaping and keeping everything in between the lines. However, what is a girl to do when she can't see the...down there in order to keep things in order? There is no propping up of the legs in the shower. There is no bending. FOR ANYTHING. I don't know if shower sweat is a thing, but I get it every time it's a shaving day because for the love of cookies, I can't find the right position. You can't go at it blind either. What woman can confidently put on eyeliner with her eyes closed? Um. You wouldn't want to blindly take a razor to the nether-regions, either. I was in the shower the other day for thirty whole minutes looking just like the Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm-Flailing Tubeman from used car lots or in an episode of Family Guy. It was a filthy, hot mess.
2. CLOGGED: The Wizard of Oz is just THE BEST movie to line-drop during certain situations. It's classic. The song the Scarecrow and Tinman sing to Dorothy when they first meet has been in my head fo' dayssss. To refresh your memory, it goes something like this:
With the thoughts you'd be thinkin'
You could be another Lincoln
If you only had a brain...
I would dance and be merry
Life would be a ding-a-derry
If I only had a brain...
Now you remember? Can't get it out of your head? You're welcome. Here's my version:
Oh the pounds I'd be losin'
Less fiber I'd be choosin'
If I could only go and poop...
Oh it's much less whimical, I know. But it's a true story. I don't want to hear another single piece of advice for how to cure this. I've tried high fiber, greens, healthy dieting, horrible dieting, softeners, water out the ying-yang. There is no hope, Obi Wan. Just know that hopefully within the next few weeks when the heavens open up from the clouds and you can hear angels singing out, it's because I've had success during a bathroom visit. Moving on.
3. Underwear or Underwhere? There is so much advice for essential maternity clothes (how much you'll need, where to buy from, etc.) But nobody wants to talk about maternity underwear. I'm a boy-short kinda girl, therefore, I've been able to get by with the low-cut just under the belly style for trimesters one and two. But things started to stretch, so I started to investigate. Maternity underwear is expensive. I don't mind dropping a dime at VS during a semi-annual sale, but I sure ain't dropping one for draws that I can only wear for two months. I ventured to Target and bought two packs of granny panties in a larger size than what I normally wear. First of all, I haven't bought underwear in packs since Ariel's Little Mermaid panties were a must-have when I'm pretty sure I was 10. Secondly, the granny panties are NOT a help. The low-cut bikini seem to suck the life outta my hips, which are not lying these days. The regular bikini come higher up on my belly, but once I sit down and then stand back up, they seem to take a missing. Then I have to dig and adjust, which can make for awkward public situations. Finally, somebody suggested I go commando. I don't have a problem with this, however, this is where the particular "pregnant in July" concern comes into play. July means heat, which means sweat. Shower sweat is one thing, but commando sweat is a whole new ballgame.
4. Dribble: I'd heard that some women towards the end of their pregnancy experience the inability to control their bladder. I thought this was a myth. It is not. Don't make me laugh unexpectedly. Pray I don't sneeze without clinching first. And for cryin' out loud, hope I don't choke or catch a frog in my throat. Coughing is strictly on the no-fly-zone until this kid is out. That is all.
5. Royal Treatment: It started with simple door-holding. It escalated to traffic stopping as I tried to cross a street or parking lot. It's like this huge bump is holding the Queen of England. At Chick-fil-A, the guy behind the counter refused to let me carry my food on a tray (because clearly, it is very taxing to walk ten steps while holding chicken nuggets), so he came from behind and escorted my food (and me) to a table. People who normally wouldn't bat an eye my way stop and openly stare at my stomach, smile, then go out of their way to let me in front of them, etc. (Or they could be asking that age-old question: Is she pregnant or is she fat?) Lawd forbid if I drop something. It's like a swarm of bees around me refusing to let me bend over, not that I actually could. I don't think I'm going to be able to go back to being un-pregnant. Because being (obviously) pregnant has it's perks. It brings out the best in people. And it's the get-outta-anything ticket for me.
I don't want to jinx myself by writing this, but overall, my pregnancy experience so far has been a pleasant one. Karma was probably like, "Aw, let's let her have something easy for a change". Some of the things on my list have been trifling, but I'd take dealing with them for the next 12 weeks over never getting the chance to deal with them at all. And that, my friends, is saying something--coming from a member of the Only If You're Pregnant in the Third Trimester in July club. (Or AARP for that matter, because the symptoms I'm having could qualify me for either...eek!)
