March 26, 2014
I am officially out of the first trimester!
The gross, grody, debilitating first trimester!
Bring on the glorious, energetic, sexy second trimester! Full of hikes and park trips and cooking full meals and generally being a real, happy person again…
I just have to remember to breathe.
I forget to breathe sometimes – I’ll be doing some innocuous activity, like reading or washing dishes or just being and living, and suddenly realize, “DUDE! You haven’t breathed in like, seven seconds!” Thankfully, before I have time to panic, my instincts kick in and I take a loud, animated inward heave, bringing my back from the brink of death…
Surely this has something to do with my low blood pressure? Or… is it the start of baby brain? I know you tend to become a bit forgetful around now, but, forgetting to breathe? That seems a bit excessive.
In real life it’s ridiculously unattractive, the whole breathlessness thing – quite the opposite of what I imagine when I think of a woman being “breathless”: an 18th century courtesan wearing a 30 pound gown and a tightly cinched corset, resting on a chaise because of the lack of blood flow to her brain.
Or maybe she’s fainted from her diabetes acting up?
I, do not look like that. I pretty much mirror the sight and sound of a two tonne rhino struggling to make it up a flight of stairs whenever I walk up a flight of stairs.
But that’s okay. It is! Because sure, I’m breathless
most of the all of the time, but at least the nausea is wavering. Quickly, too! My appetite is regulating – meaning, I’m not eating like a 14-year old boy anymore – and I can stomach the sight of poultry again! Huzzah! In fact, my cravings revolve mostly around poultry. Fish, to be exact.
I know, I know. But, before you jump down my throat or start preaching about how “pregnant women aren’t supposed to eat sushi,” hear me out:
First of all, my midwife told me it was okay. That actually, eating fatty fish while pregnant is super duper good for you and the baby. She explained that somewhere along the line, raw fish; sushi; smoked fish, got lumped in with raw meat, which, if I’m correct, can carry all sorts of nasty bacteria, types that can be super duper bad for you and the baby. Raw fish, if fresh eaten in moderation and handled properly – meaning, from a reputable sushi restaurant and not pre-packaged at an unknown location and sold from a little sketchy stand in the mall – is perfectly fine.
Secondly, I feel like, if my body is craving something as deeply as it is with raw and smoked salmon, then how could it possibly be bad for me? It’s not like my passing urges for sugary treats or a bag of chips. This is something… instinctual. Guttural. Biological, almost. Like there’s something inside of me that’s telling me I have to have it. And I tell ya’, during pregnancy, I’m going to listen to my body and my instincts over some faceless “expert” in a book or on a website, thankyouverymuch.
Dammit though, sometimes those sugary urges can feel effing biological, too……
As the calendar ticked over to the second trimester, I almost immediately found myself entering what I like to call the Leggings Phase – the bump hasn’t popped yet, but you’re definitely thicker around the middle, and your pants are no longer fitting the way they should. You can still wear them with thanks to the Bella Band though, squeezing them over your thighs and ass – just as you leave them unzipped.
Any other pregnant Mamas feel there’s a certain whacky sense of freedom that comes with walking around with your pants secretly unzipped?
I could scientifically blame the bloating on my growing uterus (which is what it is), but really, I actually blame it on all that white bread and Kraft Dinner I consumed over the last two months (which… is also what it is).
But you know, I kinda secretly-but-not-so-secretly love this phase. On the outside I lament not fitting into my “real” pants anymore, all the while internally rejoicing at leaving them behind. And what woman wouldn’t?! An actual excuse to forgo stifling skinny jeans and wear nothing but stretchy, elastic-y fabric in public (because, let’s face it, I’m wearing pyjamas at home)….
It’s the beginning of the next amazing chapter of pregnancy, guys: The Second Trimester. And it’s only going to get a whole lot less-glamorous from here!
And I say: Bring. It. ON.