Seven Weeks and Counting

On Wednesday I hit 33 weeks. Up til now, the third trimester (as well as the latter half of the second) was treating me well. People often asked how I felt and it honestly took a few minutes to understand they were talking about pregnancy.

Blast that week 33 mark.

I am officially very, very uncomfortable. Right rib? Numb. Bladder? Needs to be emptied every twenty. Legs? Tired and tight. Entire abdomen? Punching bag. Lungs? Gasping for air. Stomach? Apparently inside my throat.

My entire third trimester with El I was sick with an ongoing case of the flu/cold. The doctor said pregnancy affects women differently, but that I was probably in the category of “ALWAYS SICK.” Yesterday I caught a sore throat and chalked it up to the vog earlier in this week. However, the vog’s been gone a few days now and today I was feverish and stayed in bed most the day. Which sort of made me want to scream at the world. And the leaf blower that blew leaves all over the parking lot during nap time. The amount of aggression I felt and the way I wanted to express it was, I’m sure, not ladylike. At all. Imagine sick, giant pregnant lady sticking some kung fu moves to the leaves…


I’ve actually continued going to the gym on a semi-consistent basis. Every time I walk in the door more and more eyes avert mine. My favorite is going in at night when all the high school and college boys lift free weights in front of the mirror while I do my 3 lb. shoulder exercises (PT stuff). NO. EYE. CONTACT. Must. Not. Look. At. Pregnant. Lady. IS HER BELLY MOVING!?!?!? Yes, it’s true. One time frijolita was doing aerobics at the same time I lifted my cute little dumbbells. Freak show, I’m telling you.

The other day I went to zumba for the second time. Zumba, for those of you who are not familiar, is a dance/aerobic class with a funky salsa, hip hop flare. It’s super fun and I go with my friend Cathy. On Wednesday, for my second class, the instructor told me after that she kept looking at me huffing and puffing and thought she’d have to throw her gloves on to deliver a baby! Well shoot. I’m not THAT far along! It’s a sick sort of comic relief for me – watching everyone else look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb at the gym. Seriously, you should try it sometime.


I still crave cheeseburgers. Not fast food burgers, but GOOD cheeseburgers with pepperjack cheese and cajun seasoning. And fries. Is my mouth watering? Why yes, I believe it is. Sometimes I order the veggie patty to feel better about myself, and then remember that I’m anemic and well heck – bring on the beef! I find it odd that I had such an aversion to burgers with El and now have an aversion to Taco Bell, which I craved EVERYDAY with her.

Also craving? Cinnamon rolls. Homemade ones.

Twice people have spontaneously brought over homemade cinnamon rolls and I want to smother them with kisses except it would probably freak them out and I do enough of that at the gym (freak people out – not smother them with kisses). I do love a good cinnamon roll.


Are we there yet?

That’s about how I feel now. Like, ok. We’ve done this long enough. Time to get the baby OUTSIDE of my body. Bring on the sleepless nights, sore body, blowout poops, and fruit salad. Because at least then I get to snuggle with a little love love and won’t have to worry about sleeping with pillows underneath every extremity while JD curls up into a tiny ant on his side of the bed.

The end.

p.s. – Picture forthcoming. When I get my act together.


2 Replies to “Seven Weeks and Counting”

  1. You do 3 pounds for shoulder PT? So do I. We MUST do this together. Perhaps I would be more consistent. I’ll enjoy the scene, too.

  2. I haven’t laugh so much over your blog in a while. Your descriptions are amazing. I wish I was already there in Hawaii so that I could just hang around you and watch peoples reactions.

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