The Third Trimester: Changing shape

The third trimester things start to get tricky again. I was absolutely knackered at work, my body started to get heavier than I ever thought it would- which really slows you down (oh and there is only about one sexual position I could manage- 2 at a stretch, and when I say a stretch I mean it in the literal sense)!!!

My feet and ankles swelled up to immense proportions, they were named ‘the trotters’ by Matt and the godfather to be. I didn’t even take offence- they really were trotters a pig would’ve been proud of! My hands also swelled, and whilst I had been used to being the brawn of the family- with even Matt asking me to open jars for him, things switched, and it even ached to send a text!!! I could no longer fit my engagement ring on, which prompted a few strangers to ask if I was still with the father!

My hair grew fabulously though, my fingernails had never been longer or stronger- and my skin was really clear- which could be attributed to the long awaited alcohol detox my body had been craving for years. I decided not to have a single sip of alcohol during the pregnancy. (I’d never really drank wine by the glass anyway- I was more of a by the bottle gal!)

My appetite didn’t really shrink, although at the end they say you can’t fit much food in because the baby is taking up all of the space! At antenatal class one partner said to Matt ‘My poor missus is struggling to eat!’ Matt looked interested, but politely did not reply that his missus was still eating like a horse! I was grateful to him for this!!! By a couple of weeks before the due date I had put on 3 and a half stone. The bump was massive and I could no longer get close to the dinner table, so each meal would involve a spillage and a change of clothes. I longed for the baby to come so that I could blame the spillages and mess on them!

I also longed for the baby to come to put me out  of  my discomfort, nights were sleepless, days were exhausting, but then my cousin told me not to wish the last few weeks away, because soon my life was going to change forever, and I should enjoy relaxing while I could. I took her advice and booked treats like a pedicure (I couldn’t reach my own feet anyway, so it was kind of a necessity) and a manicure and haircut, and distracted myself from the discomfort by enjoying such activities- justifying them because I deserved it for growing the baby so nicely, and in the knowledge that these would be my last treats for 18 years to come!!!

I caught up with friends and did a bit of nesting whilst on maternity leave, but by three weeks before the due date I was so exhausted, even showering and dressing after my lay in made me feel like I needed another sleep. I had to learn how to slow down and really really take it easy- which was hard and frustrating because I was used to always being on the go. I had to accept that there were so many things I couldn’t do any more- and while I never ever doubted that it would be worth it, it was a hard for me to accept. I felt elderly and infirm!!!

It was a while into the third trimester with me going about my business all smug, telling people how I had no stretch marks- my weight had been up and down in the past, so I guess my stomach was used to changing size!! Then, one dreaded day little speckles appeared on the right hand side of my tummy, just under my belly button- this was the side I had been getting the most kicks. The kicks were amazing, and even more so when Matt could feel them too and share the experience with me. I seemed to be housing a lunatic baby who kicked really hard and very often, so there was always reassurance that things were well and busy in the womb! Matt thought my belly speckles looked like bruises, and I didn’t believe they were stretch marks, but my midwife reassured me with confidence that they were (I can’t help thinking she looked pleased about it too)! And sure enough- as the weeks progressed so did the road map on my belly- till there were too many angry purple jagged lines to count. Religiously using the stretch mark cream was unfortunately to no avail. Matt said I should be proud of those marks, I replied that it was easy for him to say, as they weren’t on his body. He said that he would get a matching tattoo on his belly if I wanted him to. I said ‘Okay- when?!’ He simply smiled nervously at me. He still hasn’t booked in with the tattooist!

I really wanted Matt to chat to the bump so that it could get to know his voice before arriving. He tried and tried, but other than bellowing ‘HELLOOOO! I AM YOUR FATHER!!!!’ in a rather peculiar, scary voice, he struggled with what to say and felt a bit of a plonker! So I bought a couple of nursery rhyme books for him to read to the bump, and after the initial laughter at him chanting ‘Wee Willy Winkie…’ at my middle, it worked well.

We settled in to enjoying our last couple of weeks as a twosome, with me trying to relax- completely blocking out thoughts of any possible pain during birth (in my head it went from the excitement of the first contraction, to them plopping our beautiful child on my belly), and Matt reading away to the bump each night. Although we still had no name other than ‘bump’ for our child, we were both so happy, excited and looking forward to the long awaited arrival……….