Now I’m starting to remember my honey’s eighth month of pregnancy.
Many of you are pretty familiar with the TTC roller coaster: inseminate, wait, experience phantom pregnancy symptoms, test/bleed, repeat. The pregnancy trip is a little different. There’s the three months of quiet excitement (quiet, that is, if you have chosen not to tell others until the end of your first trimester) and possible fatigue, puke, sore boobs, no pity from unsuspecting onlookers, etc. Then the loud and proud stage, in which everyone can see that you’re knocked up, but you feel so good (if you’re lucky) that you even forget you’re pregnant. You get reminded when people offer to carry things for you or ask you how you’re feeling. Or when your belly knocks someone sitting in a chair on the side of the head as you walk by.
Then comes the eighth month. That’s when you’ve been pregnant so long, you forget what not pregnant feels like. Sure, you are still thrilled at the upcoming new member of your family. You want to keep cheering, but the pompoms are so damn heavy… and your ankles are swollen. You stumble across a picture of yourself not pregnant and are taken aback. Who the hell is that woman with the waistline? Your baby kicks so often, that you (or maybe it is just me) find yourself having conversations with your navel. Mine sound like this: Dude, easy on the bladder. What the hell are you doing in there, man? Littlebaby, I thought I asked you nicely enough to keep your foot out of my bowel region. We need to have a serious talk…
Eight months is like spring of your sophomore year of high school. You’re a little sick and tired of it all and the rest of your time there just stretches out like a road in Nevada that keeps going until you can’t see it anymore. 32 weeks is too far from 37 to imagine or visualize the baby coming any time soon. Each day feels like it is three days long. So even though the baby could actually come at any given moment ( I hope not so so soon), you feel like you have a whole nother trimester in front of you. At least in high school you really do have an idea when it will end. This here baby could come as early as five weeks from now (he’s not allowed to come any sooner, I’ll send him right back to his womb) or as late as ten weeks from now.
I’m not complaining, exactly. I’m just telling you. Those of you who are TTCing, one day you’ll be sitting with your football-shaped feet up on a chair, wondering what your belly looked like today. I hope.