As of tomorrow, I am officially in my third trimester. And I am huge. Big as a house. My wedding ring doesn’t fit, my chin has a twin… and my feet are holding water like a pink reservoir. My toes, which have always resembled small sausage links, now look like an odd white meat, of indeterminate origin, being squeezed out of an overstuffed burrito.<\/p>\n
*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n
I think I am carrying additional babies in my thighs.<\/p>\n
*\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n
Lately, BabySor has been using my bladder as a bean bag chair, which means whether I have to or not, I feel<\/em> the urge to pee almost all the time. So I have had to develop a routine for running errands: Whenever I go to the store I pee before leaving the house, pee as soon as I arrive, and then pee again before heading home. I usually manage to do this in the bathroom.<\/p>\n *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n I am mobility-challenged (to a greater degree than I was pre-pregnancy). This makes high surfaces difficult to get onto, and low surfaces difficult to get up from. Example: Our bed sits higher than most, so for weeks now I have been using the corner of the 38″ Ikea-dresser-turned-nightstand to push myself up high and then drop and roll on the bed. Each night that I am able to land somewhere in the vicinity of Not-On-Top-Of-Marcus, I consider this method a success. Getting out of<\/em> bed is much easier, though. I just swing my legs downward and voila! I’m standing up.<\/p>\n It’s the opposite story with the couch. It sits much lower than the bed, so I don’t need any leverage to get onto it. But if I choose to recline, then getting up<\/em> is an adventure! For some reason, I can’t go from lying down to sitting up without five minutes of physical exertion and cursing. And I can’t swing my legs to the side and find myself standing. So instead, I scoot to the very edge of the couch and then try to get up enough momentum to hurl myself on the floor, being careful to land on my knees. I imagine it looks alarming to the observer, and it sure startled Marcus the first couple of times I did it, but as uncontrolled and pathetic as it looks, it is all really quite strategic!<\/p>\n *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n I don’t know if this is a pregnancy symptom or not, but for days now I have had some very vivid dreams. The one I had two nights ago was the strangest. I dreamed that the baby was only two months old and already talking. At first I was shocked and wondered if this was a sign of something wrong (possession by Satan, maybe) but I quickly concluded that I was just darn lucky to have a baby who could talk to me and tell me what he needed or what was wrong. The other weird thing is that despite having a crib, he was spending all of his sleeping and waking time in a Moses basket on the dresser. At his request, I had the dresser and basket positioned by our open bedroom door so that he could look out and see the rest of the house. I would go off and do things I needed to do, and when I heard him fuss I would go into our room and ask him what he needed. A diaper change? A feeding? Magazine? Open the blinds? At one point I was downstairs doing dishes when I suddenly remembered that for a few minutes I had forgotten I had a baby at all! How long had it been since I checked on him? Frantic, I ran upstairs and rushed to his basket to find him kicking back with his hands clasped behind his head. “Is everything okay?” I cried, still catching my breath. He rolled his eyes at me, sighed, and said, “Ye-ess!”<\/p>\n Duh.<\/p>\n And to think, I foolishly thought I had 16 years before my kid took that tone with me :\/<\/p>\n \n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" As of tomorrow, I am officially in my third trimester. And I am huge. Big as a house. My wedding ring doesn’t fit, my chin has a twin… and my feet are holding water like a pink reservoir. My toes, which have always resembled small sausage links, now look like an odd white meat, of … <\/p>\n