A few weeks ago, I faced the stark reality of my third trimester. I didn’t even know that I had started my third trimester until I checked out my pregnancy handbook. But my body certainly felt it. And so are my faithful blog readers… I am sorry for not posting in over a week. I certainly have experienced many blog worthy moments that just haven’t made it to the web.
The last weekend of February, I was hosting a bachelorette party for Shannon. My parents were also in town for the Kris Kristofferson concert. (No, he didn’t sing “Sailing;” that is Christopher Cross.) Sarah and I were at the grocery store around 4 pm and I thought that I might die. I told her that if I fell out on the sidewalk to just pour the grapefruit juice down my throat. At around 12:30 am, when our last guests were leaving, I told Margaret and Renee that I might do a strip tease for them. I need to take my bra off at that very minute. I held out, but I was in the bed within five minutes of the door closing. Sorry, Sarah!
What happened to all of that manic energy that was keeping me up at night? Just a week before I could easily have cleaned out my parent’s attic and basement, if I had only been in town. But now I was crashing and burning pretty fast. A ha! I had passed 26 weeks on that Thursday. Technically I think that the third trimester had just started.
The whole “What month/week” thing are you has been very confusing to me. Not until my sixth month have I told people how far along I am in terms of months. I typically just tell people the weeks. Are you six months pregnant at the beginning of the month? I just don’t fully know. I guess I will feel more confident on Baby Dos.
I did confirm that I had began my third trimester when I talked to Lauren’s dad, Allen, who is one of the world’s leading reproductive epidemiologist. If anyone knows, it is him. I called to check in on Ziggy and he answered the phone. I was curious about how your body makes a shift just like that because a certain week had started. I guess all of these baby books know what they are talking about. The honeymoon is over.
When I first met Lauren, she told me that her dad had discovered there are only x number of days that you can actually get pregnant. She also said that he had been quoted in magazines like Glamor and Vogue. Plus, she said they rarely discussed his work where it might apply in her life. I guess it was all a little too close to home. Good thing my dad is just a small town lawyer.
My funniest/most shocking use of telling people how far along I am occurred at the NE corner of 7th and H Streets NW. This is the home of the old CVS, and this corner has been called DC’s Times Square. Granted a teeny tiny Times Square. I was about to cross 7th and two young couples were about to cross H. I noticed this woman in her white pants with a black zipper, high heeled boots on top, and quite curvaceous body. I was thinking, wow…. will I look like that post-baby? Maybe I shouldn’t have noticed her, because she certainly noticed me when I walked in front of her.
Caught by the light, she said, “Are you pregnant?” I nodded quietly and said yes. Then she asked how far along I was. I told her “six months.” Her eyes sort of bugged out of her head. Right then she just reached down and made a big swirly rub on my belly, which I have been told is pretty small. The two guys behind her were dying laughing. The light changed and I took off. I overheard one of the two girls telling the other, “She’s going to blow up all at once.” I thought I would die. Needless to say, that was an immediate Facebook status update. I WISH I had their picture for the blog!
And for the point when I completely became unraveled this trimester… this past Friday, the 13th. I had a Physical Therapy appointment before working at Paper Source. I was running late and wanted to catch a cab. Seems easy, right? Well, they just kept driving by. I walked up to Mass Ave and thought that I had a cab as I waited for the light. As the light turned, so did the cab. Ughh… I should have walked down H Street instead. So I continued trying to catch a cab and made my way to the Renaissance Hotel.
Something has happened to my ability to walk. I can’t. Every time I have to walk at a hurried pace, I get a huge stitch in my abdomen. All other parts of my body want to walk at a normal pace – my head, my legs, everywhere. But this baby says no. Slow down. So I just don’t want to walk anymore and the aimless search for a cab was not amusing.
Already frazzled with my appointment time encroaching, I approached the front cab of the taxi stand. He said no, he wanted to go to the airport. The next cab, no, you have to go in the first cab. At that point, I lost it. I started screaming (Sorry, Mom!) “I don’t know what the f*&# I’m supposed to do!!! I am late and no cab will take me.” The guy at the door blew his whistle, calling a cab and tried to calm me down. At this point, I was crying. I explained to him that I was sorry but I couldn’t help it. “I’m pregnant.” The airport cab took off and another pulled around for me. I collapsed in the cab and really wished that I was at home on my bed where I could sob. (Sometimes once you start crying, you just want to let it all out.) The cabbie tried his best to calm me down. With a heavy foreign accent from some African country, he said “Don’t cry, you’ll hurt the baby.” Then pointed out the kids on his dash board. “Look at how beautiful.” It was very sweet and I did manage to pull it together. I was also amused that my crying would hurt the baby. I guess that means screaming will, too. Hmmm… I was somehow comforted when I realized that it was Friday the 13th.
So with all of that, I am sorry for being so lax in my postings. I am planning to catch up this week, especially now that my nursery is starting to take shape. We made major headway last night. Plus Thursday night, I am leaving for NC for over a week. So I will have lots to share via my iPhone. Please pardon misspellings and lack of links that are inevitable with on-the-road blogging.