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30 Weeks Pregnant: THAT Is Going to Need to Squeeze Out of THIS?

30 weeks down, 10 more to go.

Sit 30 weeks down, 10 more to go.

He’s weighing in at 3 pounds or so and is about 16 inches long.

BabyCenter tells me I “may be feeling a little tired these days” which is the understatement of this pregnancy. Most of the time I feel narcoleptic. Like my Grandpa in his last year at that retirement home, I can nod off in the strangest places; sitting at the dinner table, on the phone with my mom (OK, that’s not a phenomenon reserved to pregnancy), in the shower, watching TV…

The other day we were driving to get a Christmas tree and it hit me. Like stepping into a hot tub and slowly dropping yourself into the water. Exhaustion just climbs up my body until opening my mouth to answer even the simplest of questions seems daunting.

BabyCenter also informs me mood swings can dominate my third trimester: “The combination of uncomfortable symptoms and hormonal changes can result in a return of those emotional ups and downs.”

I will grudgingly admit to mood swings, here, but if you try to attribute any of my daily actions to hormones I will claw your eyeballs out with my dull, flaking fingernails.

Other than that I’m still experiencing really intense Braxton Hicks contractions which feel totally different than my other two pregnancies. My body feels tight all the time, to the point that I begin to feel claustrophobic in my own skin. Like wearing a bulky, too-tight winter coat, I want to unzip the sucker and rip it off.  It  mostly happens at night when I’m trying to sleep and can’t seem to catch my breath or get comfortable.

Welcome to the third trimester!

I can’t be sure, because I don’t own a scale, but judging by my last weigh-in at the midwife’s place I’m guessing I’ve gained 35 to 40 pounds, the least amount of any of my pregnancies. For the most part, though, I’m cruising along, barely glancing at the calendar. Hypnobirthing classes start after the holiday and I’m very much looking forward to those as I occasionally behold my giant belly and allow my brain to contemplate that that is going to need to squeeze out of this. Without the aid of drugs?

Does a joint and a bottle of wine count?

Cue mild panic attack.

Read more from Monica and her husband Serge on Babble:

 

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