- 27 weeks and about the size of a cauliflower
- Weighs about 2 pounds
- Maturing his immune system and lungs. Both of which are pretty important, I suppose.
- Now in my third trimester. Don’t call it a “home stretch” or I may burst into tears over what I still think I have to do… which is nothing.
- Waddling, grunting, and resembling a turtle on its back while I’m trying to get out of bed.
Oh, the memories:
- Acid reflux. Prior to this week it was annoying but manageable, this week it’s turned into borderline unbearable. I’ve learned that there is a difference between name brand Tums and Kirkland brand. Difference being one works and one makes me cry into the bottle at 3am when I’ve maxed out the dose.
- Hormones. They’re present and they suck.
What the hell:
- The cravings are getting stronger for sugar. I drank a Coke for breakfast.
It takes a strong woman to be pregnant. It’s a lot of physical and emotional changes and you’re supposed to walk around for 9 months pretending to be happy about it all. Most days I am because I can keep my mind on the end goal here, but yesterday I hit the wall. On Tuesday night I was up all night learning a valuable lesson in generic Tums. I finally got comfortable downstairs in the recliner when through the monitor came a tiny voice from the house 2 year old calling for me and crying. I went up to check on him and he just wanted to cuddle with me. I tried the rocking chair and he wouldn’t fall back asleep so a few hours after attempting, I tried to lay in his bed with him but it made me sick. So I put him in our bed hoping that Daddy could do the trick but he was apparently knew the difference between generic Mommy and the real boobs. I did what any mom would do: I laid in bed with my little man so that he would sleep, even though I then spent all night sick. Somewhere in there the acid reflux started turning into an upset stomach and I got out of bed Wednesday with the stomach bug that’s plagued my house. So yesterday I’m bound to the recliner all day on a liquid diet and trying not to move. It just kept getting worse and by bedtime I was laying on the floor in the hall outside of Lucas’ room with a pinched nerve and pain that was taking my breath away. Cue hormonal tears. I’m over it. I don’t want to share my body anymore. I’m tired, I want to sleep on my back, I want to go an hour without having to pee, I want to wear my old clothes again, I could use a glass of wine after a bad day, I hate the taste of Tums, but more than anything I just wanted to be able to get off of the floor on my own and I couldn’t. Third trimester greeted me with a big, open-palmed, slap in the face and I’m calling bullshit on the whole thing. Pregnancy sucks.
Prior to this string of bad days, I’m happy to report that I have nearly nested the guest bedroom into the perfect nursery. It’s adorable, and I just like to take a peak in it every now and then to remind myself that in a few short weeks there’s going to be a tiny human in there. Let’s pause for a minute to remind ourselves how ridiculous it is that a 5 pound human has his own room. I don’t even have my own bedroom. But I digress…
Here’s a sneak peak at what I’ve got going on:
Lucas is now in a big boy bed:
And he’s sacrificed his crib mattress for his little brother’s room:
His little brother’s room, by the way, now has a dresser and closet full of clean baby clothes, and I’m starting to slowly unpack the stuff in the basement. This Momma is starting to feel better about the nesting and getting ready for baby.
Just in time to get sick and be bitch slapped by third trimester symptoms.