27 weeks has made its arrival known with a fierce lethargy only rivaled by the first trimester…and maybe memories of a few hellish hangovers. While I’m sure that the 6 nightly trips to the bathroom aren’t helping, it doesn’t seem to matter how much rest I get. I could, at any moment, honestly put my head down and fall asleep. (Which made mattress shopping last week quite challenging, I assure you.)
Right after DB was born, I vividly recall standing in my tiny apartment dining room and stating, “Who forgets this? I will NEVER forget how hard this is. We are NEVER doing this again.” Um. So yeah. I kinda forgot how hard the last trimester is. Not being able to tie my own shoes. Having to relocate things in the kitchen to lower places so I can reach them. How tiring just standing up can be. Needing help with basic household chores, which puts an added strain on everybody. The exhaustion. The moodiness. The crying at stupid radio songs and that damn SPCA commercial.
And I still have three months to go.
So, we’re in survival mode here, with everyone pitching in and trying to tiptoe around the pregnant lady. But you know what? It’s okay. This time, I know: pregnancy isn’t easy AND I don’t have to make it look easy (especially this time around, with a two-year-old joining in the chaos). This too shall pass and I know things WILL eventually return to normal. Or a new normal. Or at least something we can pass off as normal.
The good news? Baby Girl is doing wonderfully. My anxiety about the pregnancy is still next-to-nothing. And? The other day, I looked down at my wiggling belly and completely fell in love.