I’m somewhere on the cusp between 2nd and 3rd trimesters, and holy hell, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
After a (not hard, not fast) hike yesterday morning, the fatigue knocked me flat on my back. I spent the afternoon clearing out my DVR, tagging #sweatpink shoelaces, and snuggling Tigger.
Not a bad Saturday afternoon by any measure, but I’m so not ready to say goodbye to the honeymoon second trimester, with all its energy and raging appetite.
Days like this also make me wish for a couch-time wine pairing. I settled for kombucha in a wine glass, which felt almost like having a real drink.
This change also reminds me that, holy shit, we’re so close to her actually being here. Just 85 days until my due date, says my app. I have a mile-long to-do list before then and at this rate it’s going to take me 800 days to get ‘er done.
On the bright side, I’m starting to feel very zen about the birth. I think I’ve saturated myself in enough natural birth books to start to believe that my body can handle this, and that while it will be harder and hurt more than I can possibly imagine, I can do this. And I have the right support team in place to help make it happen.
We’ll see how long that blissed-out attitude lasts. 😉
