The Realities of The Third Trimester

I can’t quite believe that I am nearing the end of my third trimester, it doesn’t seem that long ago that I was emerging from the sickness of the first trimester, pale, malnourished and in a very dark cloud!

They say that the second trimester is the best one, you (hopefully) come out of feeling constantly bleugh and you regain energy and vitality. You flourish, embracing all things pregnancy. You’re not too big yet to not move around and the hormones have evened out a bit so you haven’t got that constant rollercoaster of emotions. Life is gooooood! I was lucky enough to have a pretty smooth second trimester, I had energy, life didn’t actually change all that much, I could still go on big walks, work out, do my yoga and not feel too knackered at the end of the day.

Then the third trimester hits…and that fantasy pregnancy bubble you have been floating in for the last 3 months pops pretty quickly. You’re warned the 2nd trimester bliss will end but as you feel so full of life (literally) in your 2nd trimester you think how could this possibly come to an end!? I will be one of those ‘lucky ones’ you hear resentful whispers about that breeze through pregnancy without a single swollen ankle or nausea filled day. Quickly you realise there are no ‘chosen lucky ones’ (unless you’re Giselle) and there is no avoiding the quick physical decline of the third trimester (putting on shoes? Taking off leggings? An Olympic feat)! That is definitely not to say all days are bad, in fact the third trimester has been a real mix of high’s and low’s so far. I swing between feeling like Mother Earth incarnate and a baked potato (usually more the latter to be fair).

My biggest investment and the best money I have every spent has been on my pregnancy pillow, Frank (shortened from Frankfurter as my husband thinks it resembles a hotdog all stretched out). Frank is a life / sleep saver. If you buy anything for yourself in pregnancy buy a pregnancy pillow. I resisted for ages (fooled again by my 2nd trimester bliss) and thought I could get by without…why oh why didn’t I buy one sooner! Frank comes everywhere with me, to bed, to the sofa, during yoga…if I could take him out and about with me I would. He is my constant source of comfort and reassurance (sorry Nick you have been temporarily replaced by a long thin bean bag). My poor husband has now been relegated to the edge of the bed in order to accommodate Frank and during the night often gets whacked by Frank as I attempt to turn over (as I turn Frank joins me). It is a devastating moment when occasionally during the night Frank half slides off the bed and I fight with the sheets in the dark to find him, trying to karate kick him back into position. In truly desperate times when I can’t manoeuvre Frank back onto the bed I just cling to what is left of him like a little limpet clinging for dear life to a rock.

Night times are the hardest in my opinion. The restlessness, the pee-ing, the hot flushes, the acid reflux…the room now has to be sub-zero temperatures for me to get to sleep…as my husband shivers beside me, a sheet pulled around him (I’ve banned the duvet), fan blasting, I lie there huffing and puffing ‘gosh it’s hot’. *Word of warning to husbands* if your heavily pregnant wife is exclaiming how hot it is — even when it is really not — just go with it, give yourself an easier life and under no circumstances ever (ever) say ‘I’m just not sleeping that well, I get woken when you need the loo so I’m pretty exhausted’. You will not get met with sympathy, at best a quiet growl, at worst (depending on the daily dose of hormones) a tirade of ‘are you heavily pregnant, I think not!’ ‘do you think I want to be getting up multiple times a night’…. You get the jist.

Turning in bed is like turning a giant ship in the night, awkward, cumbersome and a high chance of hitting something (husband). You cannot turn and stay asleep, turning takes full conscious awareness, a lot of heavy breathing, and a careful positioning of the feet and legs to avoid the dreaded cramp… now there is also the added complication of moving Frank at the same time who is sometimes cooperative but often like trying to heave a reluctant slug.

I’ve actually really loved getting more of a bump and when you feel the kicks it is truly magical and just crazy thinking of the tiny human inside moving around. However the physical pressure of carrying a tiny human is HARD. The back aches, the hips ache and the waddle begins. When you drop something on the floor, you really have to weigh up the pro’s and con’s of actually picking it up, and if you decide to go for the pick up, it is 50/50 whether you actually make it back upright again — the floor is where I live now.

I’ve tried to stay really active throughout my pregnancy, walking daily and doing yoga and pregnancy based workouts. I truly believe this has helped me slow the development of pelvic pain etc. But now as I reach the last weeks even my downward dog isn’t quite enough. I’m learning that I HAVE to start slowing down (something I really struggle with). I can no longer fit 10 million things into a day. Today my husband has put me on enforced rest, something I tried to fight for all of about 30 seconds before succumbing to the comfort of the sofa (and Frank). I have to really tell myself that it is ok to put my feet up, be unproductive and just veg out. I am growing a human and it’s tiring. Plus to be honest your brain kind of starts to go a little..baby brain is a real and serious condition people! I go into shops and literally come out with everything but the thing I was meant to buy.. (usually something vital like loo roll.. but hey I got hoola hoops!). I blame the constant tiredness and lack of energy…this is the pre-curser for what is to come on a MUCH grander scale in a couple of months!

I’m now reaching the stage of pregnancy where the fear of birth is starting to kick in…like oh crap I actually need to push this baby out of me somehow and then most importantly keep her alive. You’re pregnant for so long you kind of forget that the end result is actually having a baby! I am trying my absolute best to remain calm and collected about the whole thing but as a worrier by nature, anxieties are starting to creep in.. Can I do this? How painful is it going to be? Am I strong enough? Have I got enough baby grows? What if she’s a big baby and NOTHING FITS? What is she’s a tiny baby and NOTHING FITS? How do I swaddle and create the perfect baby burrito!? How do I feed her? What if I can’t feed her? Have I read ALL the baby books? How the hell does a car seat work? What nappy brand do I use (and how do I put one on!?)? How do I get the dog to like the baby? And OMG the hospital bag… baby needs a hat, socks, mittens, vests, FOUR outfit changes — where is she going!? You can see that it is very easy to go down a rabbit hole of worry, googling every piece of information.. as my wise friend said to me today..STOP GOOGLING. You will learn on the job and work it out as you go, it is one thing to be prepared but another to turn into a nervous wreck trying to ensure you have every box ticked.

My yoga and breathwork is definitely helping with this and I’ve started doing some hypnobirthing. I have my positive birth affirmation cards scattered around the flat — reminding me I am a strong powerful woman and breathe that baby down! My husband had a near miss the other day whilst on an important zoom call realising in the background in full view was one of my birth affirmation cards ‘My body knows how to birth this baby’… very awkward moment narrowly avoided!

Now what I’m about to say many women may think is a load of codswallop but I do want my birth to be an empowered experience, I want to feel connected to my baby and present..I can feel the cynics roll their eyes and think oh yeah you just wait. And they are probably right, no amount of lavender oil, soothing music and golden thread breath is going to prevent the impending pain of child birth.. HOWEVER I do believe that the more relaxed you are and if you can create an environment of calm then you will have a better birth experience, whatever that experience is. Remind me of this in September as I scream for all the drugs.

On that note it is time for my next snack and a waddle to the loo…