I’m not having a lot of options anymore considering I ripped my maternity pants like a true hippo. I have surrendered to tights and I’m proud of it. Who ever invented tights should get the Nobel Peace Price. I’m sure it has kept people from fighting over the years and created peace within women’s minds. Who has the urge to fight when you are wearing comfy clothing? You would be like “naaah, im wearing my eating pants, let’s do brunch instead.” I’m pretty sure people that fight are hungry people in skinny jeans.
So what do you wear when your maternity clothes are getting too small and you only have a few weeks (days…) until the little one arrives..
– Husbands clothes (this might require a big man). You can also borrow someone else’s husband but might be strange.
– Naked – great for all itching. Bad for the working environment. Gotta love maternity leave.
– Wrap yourself in a sheet. Pretend you are an Ancient Greek.
– Leaves, go Adam and Eve style and hope you got some good glue and that it’s warm outside.
Let it all hang out, Bob. I’m with you.
So here I am sitting and eating peanut butter and Nutella straight from the jar. Using the same spoon like a proper rebel. People tend to ask if there is anything I will be missing about being pregnant. Yes! I will miss being an absolute pig and getting away with it.
Does this mean I don’t do these things without a baby in my belly…no, not really but probably less. A lot less actually. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say here. Nowadays I’m searching the fridge and the pantries like a sniffer dog. I know what’s there as I’ve just looked around a few minutes ago but still..I can’t stop.
I eat chocolate cake with both hands, shuffling it in to my mouth like there is no tomorrow.
I will also miss putting everything on my belly and calling it party trick. I do this every day and send my husband a picture like it’s the most amazing thing that ever happened. But I can’t get over having a picnic table with me wherever I go.
Little baby can come now. I ripped all my pants and I have nothing more to wear. I’m expanding and my closet is not.
When you are about two:ish weeks away from giving birth and your husband needs to travel for ten days..
Things you don’t say in the third trimester:
– I’m so comfortable!
– Please ask me again if there are two in there.
– I just shaved my bikini line.
– Yeay, I dropped something on the floor!
– Who likes Brie cheese and wine anyway?
– I can’t wait to pee again.
– Leggings are not pants.
– I’m going for a run!
– My body is a wonderland.
– So happy the baby is measuring above the curve. I love big heads.
Feel free to add to the list…
Getting dressed these days is quiet a challenge specially anything that goes below my waist. I only got four weeks left until baby pops (because that’s what he will do…) out. I could just leave it as I can’t really see this part of my body anyway. And if I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist..according to scientists.
The other day I was wearing a hairband around my wrist. I managed to get myself in to a pair of panty hoses and was super proud until I felt something super tight on my thigh.
The hairband has transferred itself from my wrist to my thigh. It’s a great place to keep it if you don’t want to lose your hairband but tricky to pull out in a meeting when you suddenly want a pony tail.
Yes, I’m naked on the second picture.
The other day we went to visit the hospital where I will be giving birth, for a little tour. Even if it’s a different place than last time, it brought back some memories. Oh the pain, oh the emotions, oh what day is it? Oh wow, did that thing live inside of me..?
The thoughts of never being this tired in my entire life. Understanding why no sleep should be counted as a form of torture.
“Isn’t she the cutest thing anyone has ever seen? Has the world seen an amazing creature like this before?” When I’m looking back at those pictures today, I realize she was very wrinkly and blue and actually not THAT cute (But a few weeks later she was).
Walking from the bed in to the shower was the longest walk of my life (3-4 meters). I told the midwife I needed a glass of water with me in to the shower or I would faint.. And she gave it to me without looking at me like I was an idiot. Wondering why nobody ever told me about the pain of a shrinking uterus while breastfeeding.
Loosing count of how many times someone would come in to my room and grab my boobs and say “Time to breastfeed. Think Hamburger grip”, like I was some kind of menu. How I wanted to do the exact same thing to the all the different nurses coming in to me and see how they would feel about it. But I was too tired to squeeze anyone’s boobs or to tell anyone to fuck off. In the end I was used to boob grabbing. And hamburger grip. And being treated like my body wasn’t mine. I later realized that my body hadn’t been mine for a long time and for now, it belonged to a little person. Not crazy grabbing nurses. And it was totally ok.
Tough but ok.
When we left the hospital tour it felt like the countdown started. Tick tock… We are doing it all again.
Pain is love as Ja Rule raps.
I’m pretty sure that my unborn child will have a slight smell of buttery popcorn when he comes out.
This is what my desk at work looks like every afternoon. The days I forget to bring popcorn, my colleagues does it for me. I’m surrounded by feeders.
I have a new addiction and it’s sparkling water. I’m the worst when it comes to drinking water in general. I’m always dehydrated apparently, without knowing it. If I have a facial I get told “your skin is dehydrated”, if I go to the midwife she says “your body is dehydrated”, when I walk passed the water dispenser it says “you haven’t been here for a while”. But since I started choosing the bubbly version I consume more. I guess it’s my body missing sparkling wine or champagne. Oh wine… can’t wait to have a new born and fall asleep after a sip of wine at 734 pm.
One thing that crossed my mind though is my dear little baby in the belly. Can I drink too much sparkling water? At one point will he feel like he is in a constant jacuzzi? Is it a Spa kind of feeling or more like a washing machine?
Guess I’ll just have to ask him when he comes out.
Also I can only wear tops one day at the time as the belly is now big and catches everything I spill. Which I pretty much everything I eat.
Above is a current picture of myself. Apparently. Because I am pretty sure that rubbing my belly means good luck. My belly must be so irresistible as everyone keeps on touching me. I don’t mind. Come rub me. It’s itching. Do my back also while you are at it.