My Pregnancy: 3rd Trimester
Oct. 4, 2009
I admit, my feet, legs, and thighs went bigger than my husband’s. It swelled so badly that I can punch dimples on my feet that lasted seconds. Very amusing. But the thing which was not amusing in anyway was, all but one of my footwear seemingly rejected my plump feet.
It’s official, I walked like a waddling penguin — a very keen observation from my friend Apple who also had gone through some funny “waddlings” herself. I already expected this ugly duckling walk, anyway.
It’s affirmative, I gained 40 pounds! It’s just a good thing I didn’t go gaga over that fact; gratitude went to my not being weight-conscious.
With my extra pounds, it became more and more difficult for me to move around. I even needed my husband’s gentle push or pull when I got up from lying down or sitting. I wrapped my hands around his neck just to lift my upper body.
Sleeping, most of the time, did not serve as a resting time for me. It became more like a hard task. Sleeping on my left side, (for smooth blood and air circulation), then switching my heavy self to the right a few minutes later, then back to my left again, and so on. What made things worse was my aching pelvic bone. A slight twist triggered pain. I could just lose count on how many switching and twisting I did during bedtime.
Until I came to a point where I realized I should get used to the discomforts as they are all part of my pregnancy. There’s no smooth way out the nine months. Hence, I befriended the various pains. In this way I managed to at least lessen my physical distress by dealing with it emotionally.
The worst though was the constant visit to the bathroom. My practitioner advised me to drink at least two liters of water a day to compensate for the possible inadequacy of amniotic fluid as my growing baby used up more space inside. Two to four groggy midnight visits to the bathroom really spelled nightmare. Yet, it was not only me who accumulated huge, black, eye bags. I felt guilty at times that I needed to wake my husband up just to give me a good lift.
Sleeping surely became arduous as sweet dreams left me for a while.
One of the good and exciting things during my 3rd trimester of pregnancy though, was the stronger and more frequent fetal activity. My tummy began to wobble; sometimes quick waves, sometimes smooth ones. August 9 was when my husband and I had an early morning entertainment. It was his first time to see my tummy do some fancy waves. We were just so happy to conclude that our little one is a strong baby.
Indeed I felt her strength. Her tickling and poking (during the 2nd trimester) turned into full-strength kicks which actually hurt! When my baby’s feet found a resting place between my ribs, it really gave me some “ouches.” Most of the time they were unexpected that they made me jerk from my seat. A few kicks at the middle of my tutorial classes really gave me an abrupt pause with some “oohs” that left my students puzzled.
This one thing was also amusing. I did not know about this until I’ve read it from a pregnancy book and proved it to be true the moment I noticed a constant pulsation at my lower abdomen where my baby’s head was situated. It was hiccups! It was a cute happening which lasted for 10-20 minutes, almost everyday during the last two months.
My days seemed longer and longer after each sunset. I came to a point where I became impatient; I can’t wait for another day. I was really counting the hours. I pathetically became bored of my pregnancy. Nine months came like years. But my friend Marisol told me that she missed the kicks of her first born, and so I should enjoy my baby’s twists and turns while she’s still inside my womb.
My appetite on my last three months, on the other hand, became hearty (during the 2nd trimester) to voraciousness. I sort of pointed finger to my baby every time I was accused of such. I felt hungry every hour. And I just didn’t eat – I feasted! I just couldn’t get enough.
My sisters, and friends were surprised to see me gobble like I was deprived of food for years. They laughed because they unusually see me eat like a hungry and greedy street dog.
At first, my husband liked the fact that I “eat a lot.” Before my pregnancy, he oftentimes coaxed me to finish my food or have a few more spoonfuls, for he knew I ate like a chicken since I was a child. But nearing my 7th month, he began to show a little anxiety as I started to take some bites off his cookie, take his extra rice, frequently ask him to buy me more, and eat five to six times a day!
Initially, he was worried our baby might gain too much, that I would end up with a ceasarian operation, which costs more than we could save up for. I defended that my practitioner regularly measured my abdomen, and in each time, she assured me that the size was within normal. To calm my husband’s distress, I asked her if my appetite might be too much for the baby. She told me that the extra fats might be absorbed by my body. And she added it was alright since I was so skinny, surely I needed some filling.
Undoubtedly, the last trimester was the most stressful (physically and emotionally) phase of my pregnancy. Ironically, it’s the most exciting as it hinted the near coming of my baby. With all the discomforts oddly mixed with excitements I knew at some point that these were just the tip of an ice berg.
I am yet to experience more.
almost 9 months
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