This week marks the official start of the third trimester. Yay! At least, I think so. Pregnancy is a lot like running a very long race. By the time the finish line is in sight, you are tired, sore, and just used up. But, somehow, seeing the end in sight, you can’t resist the urge to sprint because you just want it OVER. And, as grateful and awed as I am about the opportunity I have to experience pregnancy at all, there is no denying that it eventually gets to be a bit much to deal with. And I’m getting to that point. The hormones that relax everything (so it can all spread…blech) have definitely kicked in. As a result, my pelvis now feels like the result of a three-year-old trying to put together a puzzle. You know the way they take pieces that aren’t meant to go together and just POUND THE CRAP OUT OF THEM until they finally attach. Yeah, my legs just aren’t feeling like they should be hooked in where they are, which makes tasks like standing up, rolling over, and walking a real joy.
But, since it has been over three weeks since my last picture, let’s go ahead and do a little comparison:
Notice anything different? I mean, other than the fact that my stomach is now straining so hard against the stretchy belly panel of my pants as to create a flat spot where I should round out the most? (Glaringly obvious now that I point it out, huh?)
Yes, I cut my hair. A lot. And, while this picture was taken at the very end of the day after I had taken a nap and flattened a lot of the curls, I actually do love it. It has, however, left me pondering the ways in which pregnancy has changed me over the years.
- OK, let’s just get rid of the obvious one first. I will probably never see the inside of a pair of size 4 jeans again (yes, I really was that small before my first pregnancy—sigh).
- My hair. Something about pregnancy hormones caused my hair to develop multiple personality disorder. I grew up with straight hair. And, while I still usually wear it that way when my hair is long, I go through a lot of effort with a round brush to accomplish that feat. Once I started having kids, my hair went curly. Or wavy. Or, well, curly in some spots, wavy in others, and still pretty much straight here and there. Which is why I go through all the effort of straightening it when it’s long. But when I wear it short? I can get away with just diffusing it and leaving it curly. Right now, I’m loving that.
- My legs. No, not just the restless legs issues. With my last pregnancy, I got some varicose veins. Which wasn’t so horrible since I was due in the dead of winter and they pretty much went away after I delivered. But this time? I’m going to be huge during the height of shorts weather (would anyone like to explain to me why maternity shorts seem to be about twice as expensive as maternity jeans???). And I’m pretty sure that I could find my way through New York City with only the back of my right calf as a navigational tool. Lovely.
- My complexion. Honestly, I probably spend more on skin care than clothing (don’t worry—I’m a jeans and t-shirts kind of a girl). There is a reason for that, though. I thought that the complexion issues would all be behind me once I just got past those oh-so-enjoyable teen years. Um, no. As a teenager, I had horrible acne on my back. I couldn’t stand the thought of being seen in a swimsuit. But at least my face was clear. Now? Well, my back wouldn’t keep me out of a swimsuit (the weight and veins, however…). But, oh my gosh people, my face is much more adolescent now than it ever was back then. Thankfully, it seems to be easing up some as I go into the home stretch.
But you know, I’d still do it again. Theoretically. I just have to keep reminding myself of that sometimes as I peruse the compression socks and burn through buckets of concealer.
But you really don’t care about all of that. I’m sure you’re all dying for a name update, right? Because, really, your life won’t be complete until I finally reveal the name we have chosen for this kid.
OK, maybe it’s just my life that won’t function normally until this kid has a name which, sadly, she still does not. Some of the short list names have been thrown out. Another has maybe been added on. The list of irrational excuses for not using a name, though, seems to be endless. My latest favorite:
Me: What do you think of Paige?
Him: It’s a cute name.
Me: So, would you actually consider it?
Him: I don’t know…I mean, it’s a really cute name. And, you know, what if she isn’t really cute?
He now, of course, denies saying this. Whatever. I was there and I know what I heard. Not to mention there was an entire conversation after that statement that started with me saying something like, “Are you seriously saying you’re afraid our daughter won’t be cute enough to pull off the name Paige???”
Oh well. She’ll end up with one name or another. At this rate, the big question is whether or not she’ll end up with a father.