As I’m sure anyone reading this who has ever been pregnant before has experienced, I find that as I walk around in my third trimester, everyone has a question to ask, and a comment or prediction to offer. I am pleased (vainly) to report that 90% of people who ask my due date respond with something along the lines of, “You have such a cute little belly!” or “It looks like you have a basketball under your shirt!” or “You’re all belly – you look great!” or “You’re so tiny, I wouldn’t think you were pregnant except for that big ball!” The remaining 10% usually offer something with a little less sugar like, “Wow – you look like you’re never going to last another four weeks!” or “You look ready to go any day!” These are a slightly less welcome, but are at least polite.
Aside from the size issue, there are the location commentaries: “Oh my, you’ve definitely dropped, haven’t you?” and “You can’t be too close – you obviously haven’t dropped yet.” These were both administered within ten minutes of each other in the same chiropractor’s office – the first by my doctor and the second by her partner. In line at the grocery store, the checker said, “Look at that belly! You’re so low, you’ve got to be close!” while the woman behind me in line retorted, “I was going to say that you’re carrying pretty high for a woman with just a few weeks to go.” My next door neighbor on the right swears that I’m going to give birth on Kenny’s swing set with the way my bump is hanging, and the one on the left is predicting that I’ll go late because I’m still so small.
Then there is the shape. We all know the old wives’ tale that a basketball is a boy and an inner tube is a girl. But I’ve heard plenty of, “Oh, that little ball is sure to be a girl! Look at how clear your skin is!” (I still don’t know that connection), and “I carried two girls just like that – all in front. It was my boy who made my butt big.”
Though I am thankful that my face, arms and rear haven’t chubbed up too much (with Kenny I did pack a little bonus ripple or two on my thighs and arse), the basketball thing is really rough on the lower back. And I have dropped (I think it’s fair to say I can tell that myself) to the point that I’m waddling simply because there is an infant head wedged in my pelvic bone, slowly prying it apart. When I get up in the morning, I literally feel like I have to squeeze my pelvis back into one piece to walk.
My contractions are still at it, too. Braxton Hicks all day, then they get lower and meaner toward bedtime. Like deep menstrual cramps that radiate across my back and down my thighs, sometimes sharp and sometimes just dull. It keeps me awake and only fades as I lay down for an hour or so. Otherwise, I’m still doing pretty well. I’m still smiling, and I’m keeping the hormones mostly under control (though Kenny is learning that I do mean business when I say, “Right now!” these days). My appetite has slowed down a little, too. I guess my poor stomach doesn’t have much room in there right now. If I were to bet, I would say that I’ll be a week early at most. Perhaps even close to (or on) my originally scheduled c-section date?? I have an OB exam on Thursday morning, so I’m curious if I’ve dilated at all yet. We’ll see!
