Disclaimer: This is a rather detailed post, celebrating the highs- and even the lows-of a third, final, and (so far!) healthy pregnancy. Please don’t read if this topic might upset you!
During a recent trip away with the family, I had a bit of an unfortunate incident with my trousers.
I know… you’re not surprised!
The catch here, however, is that I wasn’t actually wearing them at the time. They were hanging on a clothes rail above one of those little metal safes; you know, just minding their own business. Sadly, however, I went back to the room one afternoon to retrieve some money and found that the safe wouldn’t open. Assuming ‘Baby Brain’- as you do- I tried a number of different combinations, before realising that my trousers had actually gotten trapped in the safe door as it was being locked, and had jammed it shut.
After what seemed like an age of pushing and pulling, twisting and wiggling… I had to give up the game and yank them out.
With one almighty tear, our passports were free… but my purple trousers were history.
“Gutted!” I told Husband, when I re-joined them by the pool; “I’ve just had to throw my purple trousers in the bin!”
“Oh, thank goodness for that!” He replied, looking genuinely delighted, “those trousers were disgusting!”
The thing is, he might have been right; I hadn’t worn them all holiday and I’m not sure I ever really intended to. But… like a lot of things cluttering our house that mean nothing to him and everything to me… they had sentimental value, and I was genuinely upset to see them go.
See, those purple trousers were the very first things that I actually went out and bought to wear when I first started to show, in my first ever pregnancy. Not maternity trousers; just slightly oversized, slightly lower-fitting pants for those first, filled-out few weeks of the second trimester. I remember the trip to the shop in vivid detail, because; after entertaining the idea that we were never going to have children; it finally dawned on me that my body was too big for my clothes and that I was, indeed, growing a human.
We were having a baby.
In short; those “minging” baggy trousers represented a phase in life that is fast-disappearing. Memories of awe and wonder that have been faded over by saggy boobs, stretch marks, and a severely punished perineum! Memories of oh-so-slowly growing the little girl that is growing up too fast; whilst I realise that two thirds of my final pregnancy have already flown right past.
See, I started to write this post a couple of weeks ago, when I realised how quickly the 28-week mark was closing in. Because I was so in awe the first time, I didn’t think I’d be blessed to do it again. And I was so traumatised the second time, I presumed that was probably the end. Yet I was so surprised this third time, that everything moved so fast; so I wanted to slow down and hone in on the good stuff, because Husband swears this is the last!
Being one of those “lucky ones” , see, I was thoroughly enjoying the second trimester; the neat little bump, the bubbles, the flutters, the somersaults and the kicks; when Husband says, “you’re glowing!”- and you don’t wear that glean of sick. Thanks to an increased dose of Thyroxin, my hormones were happy too; and truth be told, I look good in bumps- better than I usually do!
Then I woke up at the start of this week and realised that somehow, at exactly 27 weeks on the dot, the third trimester had arrived.
Sitting in bed reading the night before gave me some kind of giant baboon’s butt; I weed myself after a trip to the loo, and Tinker’s school application left me blubbing and covered in snot! The usual walk to nursery has me panting and clutching my sides; whilst my weird, gammy finger has swelled to double the size…
Three days of insomnia- whilst Husband was away- had me exhausted. (Not to mention crawling round the kids’ room at night- measuring furniture!- because this nursery suddenly HAD to be sorted!) Yep… Trying on a swimming costume again, just to double check that my flaps were under wraps… I am in no doubt now that the most beautiful stage of pregnancy is officially in my past!
Which means, of course, that this over-thinking, sentimental mother- in all her usual transparency– is over-emotionally aware that she’s now in the third and final phase of her third and final pregnancy.
And, whist I feel incredibly blessed by those statistics, and relieved that 28 weeks have safely gone… I can’t help but feel a little sad and nostalgic that this huge part of life, for me, is almost done.
And it’s exciting! Don’t get me wrong! In a few long weeks- all being well- we will be greeting another precious little one. And I am certain sure, that after a few weeks more, I’ll be more than ready, and tired and … done.
So forgive my indulgence, before I get to that stage, and allow me to celebrate. For it’s been a beautiful state, growing these three wonderful lives, that God so graciously gave.
The thing is, I feel more confident pregnant, than I do when I’m fit and well!
The thing is, my body feels most alive, when it’s growing someone else as well!
The thing is, there’s nothing like feeling “you” move,
Knowing you- but not even your name.
Trying to guess- (based on old-wives tests!)-
Whether you’re “sugar and spice”, or “puppy dogs tails”! (So rude!)
Right now we can only imagine life with you-
In a few weeks we won’t imagine it without!
And… whilst I just can’t wait
To look at your face,
And welcome you into our world…
Right now, I’ll savour your bump,
Your wriggles and jumps,
As the last I will feel on this earth.
What a privilege.
Thank you God.