My old foe.
My nemesis and sworn enemy. I've been expecting you.
To put it softly, I did not enjoy the third trimester of my last, and only other, pregnancy. I recall almost never sleeping, ever. Excruciating pain in my groin and hip joints, aching knees and back, ravenous appetite, a bit of water retention in my face, stretch marks, and the general feeling of simply not being able to move or function. Quite frankly, the third trimester made me flat-out fall out-of-love with pregnancy.
But here we are again.
This round has been pretty much i-den-tic-al to last time. And that, my friends, is why I know I'm in for a real treat in the coming months. And to top it all off, I've also got a toddler to chase around. A toddler who insists that when we retrieve the cars he just thrust down the hallway, we do it on our hands and knees. Talk about a tough thing to ask of a
But I am indeed 27 weeks along today. Which means I'm 2/3 of the way there.
Do I look like a woman that has been sleeping almost not-at-all? I feel like I do. My hair also looks oddly ombre in this photo. Which is completely unintentional, but look at me. All trendy.
I've also instituted a belt into the ensemble, because it helps define the line between my bust and my belly a little better. I figure the effect is still there. I froze my little booty off to take this photo, too, by the way. It is getting coooooold up here in Canada!
As for how I'm feeling, turning over at night is getting increasingly difficult. Also falling back to sleep after Oliver wakes up - a la "where's my soother" - is really difficult. Thus I'm having a hard time getting a really good night's sleep, and it's getting progressively worse. I can't even really nap in the afternoon because my fall-asleep function seems to be broken. It's like my body has forgotten how. Guess it's time for some more The Office reruns (no, not the new ones without Michael Scott. Who do you think I am?)
I've also been guzzling ice water like there's no tomorrow. Again, it's more for the ice at the end than anything else, but I just crave it. I also wake up in the middle of the night with unreal "have to eat right now or I may die" urges. Last night I sprinted from our bed to the kitchen and the first thing I could find was an apple. I brought it back to bed and thrust it into my mouth. I woke Matt by mistake, and heard him grumble "You're cute." before turning over and going back to sleep. My silly muffin.
I think I've been doing pretty good on the weight gain front, however, despite my ravenous hunger. In the entire pregnancy thus far I've only gained 3.5 pounds. I probably should have gained more, actually, since I feel like baby is starting to take calories from my face, arms, and butt, but I don't want to complain. I know there are many out there not so fortunate as I, by no fault of their own. I honestly feel like all I do all day is eat mini Halloween chocolate bars (or "Fun Size" as they like to be called. Which is hilarious, because there is nothing fun about a bite-sized chocolate bar masquerading as a real treat.) And I also do not really exercise. Like, at all. Like not even a little bit.
I figure chasing Oliver around all day and creating a human being is enough working out for this lady. I'd probably have a better night's sleep, less joint issues, and more flexibility if I did decide to exercise. But there is the very small problem of me being absolutely and completely lazy. It gets in the way.
I'm not too worried about stretch marks this time around! That's a big plus! Since Oliver already "blazed that trail" for his little brother, I don't think I'd even notice if I got a new one. Right up until the last month of pregnancy I didn't have a single one, and I was extremely excited about it. I tried not to brag, but it was hard. I felt like I was somehow exempt from this terribly pregnancy travesty. And then blam. All within the course of about a week, Oliver created what I like to call a hurricane of scar tissue. I call it that because it looked like what a hurricane looks like on the weather network. A swirling vortex of terror around
I actually photographed my stretch marks on my very first Mother's Day, because I was strangely proud of them. My oldest friend, and cousin, Amber told me that I ought to sport them with pride, like a tattoo that represented an important journey I'd gone through. And she inspired me to do just that. So I took a photo, and posted it on Facebook for the world to see my
They don't look like that anymore. They faded like crazy as my first year of motherhood progressed, and you can barely see them now. I'm wondering if pregnancy makes them "reappear" though. I'm assuming it will. Which is cool with me.
Get a load of that off-centre bellybutton by the way. You never really notice those things until something forces your abdomen into new territory. I couldn't believe how off it was. Is.
I feel like I look so much older and mature than I did in my first round of maternity photos. I took photos at 27 weeks with Oliver, too, and I feel like I look like a little baby in them.
I'm also definitely larger this time around, too. But look what a baby I was! I had no idea what was in store. No idea how drastically my entire universe was about to change. No idea that I'd blink and I'd be taking maternity photos that looked like this:
Because time just flies by, doesn't it? I feel like we just found out we were going to be parents, and we're already on baby number two, and I already resemble something orbiting the earth. Whoomp Blink, there it is.
I think that about sums up my 27 week situation, though. Not much else to report, except that my husband has been an absolute God to me. He gets up in the night to tend to Oliver, he gets me ice water whenever I want, and he's so darn sweet to me. I'm not sure how he finds it in him, since I'm not always very nice to him (I'm hormonal. I can't help it.) But he does it. And he's wonderful.
But he's also participating in "Movember." So, he does lose a few points there.
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