As in, I thought I was already 3 weeks and 5 days into it. I was cruising. This belly bake (i.e. cruel and unusual punishment) was finally coming to a close!
But then I logged on to my favorite pregnancy website a few days early, as I always do to see what type of fruit my belly nugget will be for the upcoming week, and my mouth fell open as it said, “28 Weeks-Welcome to your third trimester!”. Wait, come again?
I feel so ignorant. How could I not have not have known that pregnancy trimesters are not actually just 3 months each but like 13 weeks and some change? I guess I missed THAT memo when changing from my 1st to my 2nd trimester, probably because I was living in the bathroom, puking my brains out and probably could have had a mini alien land on my shoulder and not even notice. 1st trimester I was not present to life. At all.
Second trimester started in the same way as the 1st. More puking. More headaches. More why does my fetus hate me so much? And then at about 5 months there was a calm in the storm where I felt just slightly back to normal. I didn’t feel like I HAD TO to sit down on that bench halfway up the hill. I still wanted to, but I felt strong enough to walk on by if necessary. I didn’t go berserk on my husband when he didn’t take out the trash IMMEDIATELY after making chicken for dinner (those chicken entrails can create a vomit-inducing odor faster than you can say ‘bloated ‘n’ bitchy’). And I could actually feel the same happiness everyone else felt from the sunny day, instead of replying to their comment of “isn’t it beautiful out?” with a fake smile and murmured agreement that makes me seem like I agree while really my mind is thinking “I don’t effing care”…and then feels like a horrible monster for being such a negative nancy who can’t even take joy in the beautiful weather. So yeah. At about 5 months in, I was feeling much better.
And then 6 months rolled along and new, annoying things began to creep in. My nipples gave birth to baby nipples, which proceeded to then dry up like little prunes and fall off (disgusting, much?), I became a gaseous machine, the headaches returned, some dizzy spells began, my feet grew into a new size in shoes, and the wonderful taste of acid reflux became my daily “good morning”. I’ll go into all that and more later, but the main point is, just when I thought my tummy tot was beginning to like me a bit, she went back to being a body bully.
So it’s not good news. It’s horrible news that 27 weeks doesn’t actually equal 6 months and 3 weeks…i.e. 2 months and 1 week until body freedom, but that I am actually still stuck in the second trimester for another TWO DAYS and the real fun of the third trimester hasn’t even began. WTF, I say. WTF.
Please tell me I’m not the only nimrod who didn’t know this.
ithinkmyfetushatesme 