Oh, third trimester. It's like a three month long acid trip. If I could bottle or roll the essence of third trimester I could sell it on Venice Beach to all the hippies.
One time I dreamed that I gave birth to kittens. A mean a whole litter! And I was so stressed by that dream. Not because I gave birth to another species, but because their mouths were so small I was concerned how I would be able to nurse them.
Another time I dreamed that Gana was going to die so before he did he was forcing me to marry this guy from our church so I wouldn't be alone. He made him move in and everything. I woke up so ticked at Gana.
|About two weeks before Saraa was born.|
Maybe I need to lay off the bedtime snack.
But, there lies another thing about this third trimester. I'm starving. I mean, if I'm not eating, I'm feeling faint. But the tricky thing is what to eat. It's either love or hate when it comes to food. I'm gobbling it up or it's making me feel nauseated.
|Again before Saraa was born. My belly doubles as a table.|
But that decision isn't nearly so difficult as what to wear! Those liars that sell maternity clothes say, "Buy the same size in maternity as you would non-maternity. If you are a small when you are non-pregnant, buy the small maternity." Baloney. I'm a non-maternity small. On Sunday I put on a dress that was 3XL. It was too tight. I'm one step away from wearing a bed sheet. And it's not just deciding what to wear out--it's getting the clothes on. If it's pants (or even underwear) I feel like I have to be a contortionist. I've completely given up shoes that require lacing or buckling and am living in a pair of ballet flats that are two sizes bigger than my normal size. But they're getting tight. And then someone has the nerve to say, "You carry all in front. You look the same everywhere else."
"Oh really?" I think as my socks cut off the circulation to my ankles.
|And baby makes six. Before Saraa was born my sister bought me some really big pajamas.|
Not that the baby isn't out in front, because he/she really is. The other day I was at the park watching Lucas play baseball and I laid down in the shade. Got stuck there like a beetle on its back. Seriously, it took me a good five minutes just to figure out how to roll over and get up. Between my laughing and my groaning I'm sure I looked like a crazy person. I should be good at it by now. I go through it a dozen times a night. Like rolling a beached whale back into the ocean. It takes a lot of heaving and pushing.
And yet, I am not ready to have this baby just yet. A combination of factors really. One, it's too hot right now. Yesterday it was about 104F or something. I do not want to labor when it's that hot. It's enough work in this heat to sit on my duff and blog. Anything more strenuous than that needs to wait until the temps are not in triple digits. Two, I need to finish organizing my school room. If I go into labor now that school room is never going to be organized. Three, my mommy has a lot going on right now and has a cold. So, I need her to be all healed up so she can come care for me.
Plus, I like being pregnant. I know right? What about all the trippy dreams and having nothing to wear and all that. OK, so all that is on one side of the scale. Pretty heavy. However, on the other side is the fact that I have a BABY--a living, moving, person bearing the image of God--INSIDE ME! With God's help I'm growing an eternal being! I'm like an artist for a few months! How cool is that?! I get to protect and provide for this one. I get to feel this one move and kick. And someday--soon, but not too soon--I'm going to help God bring this eternal being into his or her temporary home on earth. It boggles the mind. Put that on the other side of the scale and all my third trimester woes don't seem so bad. I mean, no one said being a creative artist was easy.
So, I'm going to go sit in front of the fan and have my children fetch me things today and dream about this weekend when the temps drop to double digits. And I'll read and pray and check my email about a dozen times. And maybe I'll call up my pastor's daughter and see if she's dating anyone famous.