You Know This Is the End of the Third Trimester When ...
by Gretchen Bossio
Photograph by Twenty20
I was quietly eating my burrito when a middle-aged woman stopped by my table and said, “When are you due?”
“In two or three weeks,” I replied.
Her mouth gaped open. I knew nothing good was coming next. And I was right.
“Oh … wow … I mean … you just look … so … ready,” she stuttered.
I starred at her, burrito in hand, just waiting for this tragic moment to wrap up. I mean, what was I supposed to say? “Actually, I’m in labor right now. Glad you asked!” or “Due yesterday, just hoping this burrito reminds Baby that he is out of space.”
Nope. She deserved to let the awkwardness soak in. It wasn’t new to me. To be gawked at. To be questioned on whether or not I really knew my due date or if I was sure there weren’t twins inside my belly. So, I let a tiny grin sneak out while she backpedaled like crazy.
The comments. The emotions. The discomfort. The anticipation.
On a daily basis, I’m excited, anxious and nostalgic. Then I'm angry, crying and giddy. "Roller coaster" doesn’t even begin to describe me. My poor husband. My poor children. We’re all ready for the little munchkin to make his debut. People’s comments make me want to hibernate (but burritos keep calling!) and no amount of ice cream can soothe what the scale currently says (it’s all water weight at this point, right?)
If you’re third trimester-ing along with me, you can surely relate. And, if the third trimester of pregnancy is on your horizon, be forewarned.
Bottom line, the realities of the third trimester will induce laughter (not labor, so sorry!) and laughter is always good for the soul—and the overly pregnant mother-to-be.
Your main hobby is going pee.
Now, without further adeiu, may I present: “You Know This Is The End of the Third Trimester When …”
- Your maternity clothes are no longer fitting, but you refuse to spend money on the next size up. Watch out, hubby, I’m coming for your favorite T-shirts!
- You can’t make a phone call without someone answering with, “Are you OK?!” Um, yes, I mean, I will be. I just need you to bring home Fruity Pebbles, coconut water, really crunchy grapes and popsicles. Gelato, too, but not chocolate, something else good. And that spicy potato burrito from Taco Bell. Then I’ll be OK.
- Everything arrives via Amazon Prime. Why waddle into public when you don’t have to?
- You grunt, groan, moan and whimper while flipping from your left side to your right in bed at night.
- Your week is marked by appointments: midwife, acupuncture, chiropractor. Anything and everything to get baby ready for a smooth exit.
- Nesting strikes. And that’s not like regular cleaning. It’s like, I MUST vacuum behind the washer and dryer and rotating every mattress in the house must happen NOW.
- The milk you buy has an expiration AFTER your due date.
- Your main hobby is going pee.
- Your swollen feet only fit in one pair of shoes—a worn-out pair of flip-flops.
- Getting in and out of the bath tub is equivalent to an Olympic sport.
- You cannot resist buying just one last itsy-bitsy baby outfit. Someone, please change all my passwords because the late-night insomnia is leading to A LOT of little treasures.
- Bouncing on the birth ball while watching reruns of "I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant" is your new evening routine. How, just how?!
- Your bathroom counter is full of supplements, your legs are full of hair you cannot manage to shave and your heart is full of so many hopes and dreams for your new baby.