7.5 (or Week 30 to the 40 Weeks)

I’m a whopping 7.5 months right now. Both the weight of the words and the weight I am carrying (at least the perception of it in my mind anyway) is a whopping whopperoo. I am at the 10 weeks to go mark and everything is single digits from here on in. Single digits?! Single digits?! 

Insane.

In the last month since I’ve posted on preggo life, the beginning of the third trimester has proved to not be too bad, but I can sense the decline coming on the horizon. For one, a lot of early pregnancy discomforts are returning (tiredness, lack of sleep, frequent urination), but now with the added physical obstacle of a stuffed basketball stretching to oblivion under my belly (making everything more difficult in general). You just can’t do or be the way you used to physically. I know this is only going to compound. However, there are still some blissful unawares moments where I actually forget I’m pregnant. If I’m sitting or lying in a certain position where I don’t notice my belly protusion. But then a kick or a jab from Baby or a hip joint locks or my back spasms or I readjust and I am immediately reminded my body is an incubator.

For the most part though I feel good. *Fingers crossed* that in the next 10 weeks (the home stretch if you will), I will continue to feel good. I don’t necessarily want to dance around and sing in exultation every day, but good is good. And for the most part I enjoy being pregnant. I still feel comfortable in my own skin and like myself. And sometimes I even feel like a heightened or more beautiful version of me (inside and out) because of the profound purpose in my current state. I don’t plan on doing this pregnancy thing again anytime soon per se (nor am I one of those people who raves about how much she loooooves being pregnant), but I’m grateful for my experience thus far and know I’m a lucky lady to be bringing a human being into this world (though sometimes the weight of that thought can be quite a whopping whoppero too).

I’m also grateful that this time has been one of closeness between me and the hubs, to transition from being 2 peas in our pod, to 3 peas (because I really loved our 2 pea life just the way it was). But that’s a whole other topic to muse upon. One for a different time, different post.

For now, the last month's worth of unexpecteds while expecting:

• I get tired just sitting up, or getting in and out of bed. Simple actions that should not be ones of exertion. Though I'm not tired exactly, as much as I'm out of breath. My lungs are sandwiched somewhere inside of me, backed into a corner, with limited expansion room. It’s not even because of my size or inactivity or lack of exercise or anything. I just huff and puff. That’s it. C’est la vie.
• I knew you get overheated while preggo, but I didn't know that I would sometimes feel like I might melt away from being soaked in sweat or like I might spontaneously combust from heat if I don’t tear everything off and jump for a swish in the snow. A hot flash is a very overwhelming, sudden, jarring feeling and it is NOT fun.
• I put my hand on my belly, A LOT. This was something that sort of annoyed me when I saw other pregnant women do it, as if they were just being over obvious to their knocked up state. But it’s a natural instinct and it’s comfortable. And well who the flip cares.

Hmmm that’s all for now. I’m sure there’ll be plenty more to come as I count down to 9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1........aaaaaaand baby!