We Meet Again Third Trimester
My baby is the size of a head of cauliflower, my uterus is the size of a basketball, our pets heads are falling off! Ladies and gentlemen, we’re officially in the third trimester. Let’s all stand up and give it a well-deserved slow clap.
This means it’s countdown time. Okay, maybe that’s a little premature, but I’ll be honest, the third trimester is my favorite. Sure, it’s the most brutal, but it brings me closer to the end, which means I’m one step closer to snuggling a fresh baby from heaven.
Maybe I’m crazy for loving the third trimester. I mean, let’s look at the facts and let them speak for themselves.
The first trimester is marked by bloating and nausea but it pales in comparison to the excitement of discovering you’re pregnant and telling your people you’re having a baby. Plus, reacquainting yourself with shiny hair and superior nail growth is always a win.
The second trimester usually gets the best rep and it’s noteworthy “go tell it on the mountain” characteristics include an energy resurgence along with belly be poppin’ and booty be poppin’ adorableness. Basically, it’s the trimester that makes a girl feel like Beyoncé. “All the ladies if you feel me help me sing it out…”
The third trimester is characterized by what feels like and quite possibly could be, the jolliest and fattest Santa sitting in the ol’ uterus. Phrases like mucus plug, leaky breasts, dilatation nation, start to enter your vocabulary. Sexy time gets awkwardly creative as you progress from the more manageable fruit and veggie comparisons (cauliflower) to the more daunting, and unbelievable, pumpkin and watermelon. You’re on level red severe risk of stretch mark attacks and suffering from a serious case of waist envy. Most important of all, it’s impossible to dance Gangnam style with your toddler without peeing your pants from all the super classy jumping around. Have I sold you on trimester tres yet? Yes? Nailed it.
Despite all of the above “pleasantries” this last part is my favorite because all of it just brings me closer to a baby. It’s all part of the “having a baby” deal and I’m okay with turning into (for a limited time) a blubbering bowling ball filled with gas. Hit me with your best shot, third trimester. Bring on the hemorrhoids, the Braxton Hicks, and the belly gawking and belly droppin’. This mama bear can’t wait to meet her baby.
Image: Watermelon belly comparison via PonomarenkoNataly/Shutterstock.comAdd a Comment