Yes yes, our little one arrived at the end of July but I have some catching up to do! So here we go, with a blissful disregard to chronology, just the way I like it here...
The third trimester. The very pregnant trimester. We were finally within sight of our due date and our focus shifted from my bump to our baby. I also started thinking more seriously about the birth. People will tell you that you can't prepare for labor and birth but I disagree. Of course you won't be able to anticipate exactly what it will feel like to bring a human into the world, but I think there are a lot of ways you can build a strong foundation for birth. Yoga, for starters, and lots of meditation. Or thinking, or daydreaming, or praying, whatever you choose to call it. As I neared closer to the end of pregnancy, I found myself lost in thought, trying to navigate the major changes coming our way. More urgently, though, I thought about birth and sought out as many (positive, helpful, empowering) birth stories as I could find, while reminding myself often not to romanticize the event so much that I forget to stay humble.
The third trimester is when I realized that the exciting part wasn't being pregnant. The exciting part was getting to meet our baby boy.
When I was around 30 weeks along, we went on a babymoon and stayed in an adorable artist retreat cabin in rural Vermont for a few days. We lounged around, read books, napped and tried to narrow down our list of baby names. One day we took a short trip into Burlington and bought some artwork for the baby's room. The last night, I had a little glass of wine (!) and we snuggled in, only to wake up the next morning to a late April snowstorm! Any other time I would have been upset by that, but somehow, on our babymoon it felt absolutely perfect. I packed away the Birkenstocks I wore the day before and watched Chris clear the snow from our car before heading back to reality. I highly recommend sneaking away for a few days if you can swing it. If you can't swing it, set aside a weekend for a babymoon at home, a pre-baby staycation, if you will. Don't assemble the crib, don't sweep the floors, just relax by yourself or with your partner. Babymoons for the win.
"When you are pregnant you can get away with a lot of shit. Women really are at their most dangerous during this time. Your hormones are telling you that you are strong and sexy, everyone is scared of you, and you have a built-in sidekick who may come out at any minute." -Amy Poehler
Admittedly there was something lovely about being very pregnant and getting away with just about anything. Like eating ice cream all the time. I ate ice cream at a Beyonce concert, requested it as the theme of our party celebrating baby boy, turned a work event into an ice cream social, found it at a wedding... if there was ice cream nearby, I had some. And no one dared defy me.
I have the unfortunate habit of feeing intense nostalgia and longing for moments while still being in the moment. As the third trimester carried on, I started missing pregnancy fiercely. I missed my newfound confidence in my growing, perfectly imperfect body. I missed the way Chris would pat my belly and talk to our baby. I missed the way our little guy squirmed around inside me, kicking my ribs and hiccuping every day. I even started to miss my swollen feet. I wondered if I would be incredibly sad once I stopped being pregnant. I wondered if I would feel as good being a mama as I did being pregnant.
The good news about my nostalgia-in-the-moment trouble is that I was pregnant for a very long time, just about 43 weeks in fact. By the time labor began, I was more than ready to say goodbye to the pregnant stage and move onto the birth and motherhood stage. Next up: what it's like to be 43 weeks pregnant.