Well hello third trimester, I remember you. You are the one who’s snatched from me my second stage of pregnancy glow, my energy levels, my sense of sanity – and, I suspect, my previously strong bladder. You’ve instead reintroduced me to some old acquaintances whom I’d really have preferred leave far behind, like insomnia and irrationality, as well as going to the loo 13 times a night.
Oh yes, I’ve morphed into a hotbed of hormones whose former levels of logic and reason seem to have disappeared with my ever expanding waistline. Patience (sadly, not one of my strong points pre pregnancy) has apparently already commenced maternity leave, as all my former levels tolerance are AWOL. And when this cataclysmic event happens to coincide with the stinking heat of summer AND Christmas shopping season, no good can come of it. Fighting for car parks and queuing for the cash register (especially if you have yourself a whining preschooler for company on said retail expedition) while you puff and sweat profusely are almost enough to send you into early labour. (God bless online shopping!)
I’ve also come to realise I am best cloistering myself from ANYTHING of a news of current affairs nature. I figure, for the sake of my dwindling emotional capacities a ban from all things even remotely likely to extract an emotional reaction is a must. I’m starting to lose count over how many times I’ve found myself sobbing into a TV or PC screen, as if I’m at the centre of the tragedy I’m watching or reading. My new motto? No news is good news….
Finding flattering clothes that also equate to comfort (and are in my budget) is proving to be trickier than trying to understand just why it took Katie Holmes so long to divorce Tom Cruise. In fact, speaking of which, if Mr Cruise is looking for a premise for his Mission Impossible franchise to extend to movie number 5, I’ve found it. Because as I stare blankly at my closet contents each day, trying to piece together something both complimentary and comfortable to wear, I cant help but hear the theme song from this movie series rattling around in my head…
Note to self, if you are feeling ungainly and the size of a small minivan, probably best NOT to have your photo taken with your gorgeous, svelte big sister… Lucky I love her, because I’m quite sure I’d not like to stand next to anyone else looking so slim and spectacular right about now – nor someone wearing such a similar style of dress!
|Let’s hope this is also like a “before & after” shot in about 9 months time…
No pressure Donna…
I do admit that this home stretch of pregnancy does bring with it some tantalising anticipation that cancels out any of the hormonal riddled complaints above. Despite the silly anxieties that plague me in the dead of night, (will I cope better this time around? Will it be like it’s big brother and be anti-sleep?) the silver lining is that soon we get to meet this long overdue (final) addition to our family. All the sweating, swollen ankles, irrelevant tears amount to minimal life disruption when I think about seeing that bundle of baby for the first time.
But until the day arrives that I swap my whiny 3rd trimester state for the start of ‘motherhood version 2.0’ I reserve the right to moan about the heat, cry over the craziest, most illogical and unrelated events and curse people (silently, most likely) in over crowded shopping centres. And of course, I apologise unreservedly in advance to my poor husband and son (and anyone else I accidentally upset) who must put up with me and my loopy pregnancy hormones for the next 12 weeks…! I promise normal programming will return to a life near you soon 🙂
(Disclaimer: While this post was written part in jest, part in all seriousness, it remains a pregnant woman’s prerogative not to have to reveal the exact ratio of each! Ha!)