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The Third Trimester Pity Party

33 weeks and feeling sorry for myself.

Sometimes we all just need a good pity party.  Mine was this weekend.

For 33 weeks I have felt blessed, lucky, and so grateful for being pregnant.  Getting here didn’t come easy for me, and I can’t imagine ever taking that for granted.  But with that said, it has also been hard for me to become so unrecognizable from my pre-pregnant self.

I’m not talking about weight gain, or my giant belly, or the weird marks on my face, or any of that.  I’m talking about the things that make me…ME.  

The “old me” would have woken up on a Saturday morning and probably gone for a long run.  After that, I’d probably go out for or make a big recovery breakfast, and then showered and gotten ready for my day.  Perhaps I would have cleaned the house or finished off my to-do list for the week.  I might have invited a friend to go for a walk, or run errands to get ready for the week ahead.  Or if the sun had been shining, I probably would have wanted to be outside all day – mowing the lawn, planting flowers, going for a long walk with my dogs, and more.  Eventually, I’d be ready to settle in for the night.  My husband and I might have gone out for dinner, or maybe we would have invited friends over and cooked a big meal ourselves to enjoy out on the back deck.

The “new me” still wants to do all of those things.  Being active and on the go is a big part of who I am.  It makes me happy, and makes me feel alive.  But instead of all of those things, this Saturday went more like this…

Get up early with big intentions for a productive day.  Take dogs to the park and go for a three mile walk.  Absolutely dragging by the end.  Come home, relax, and make lunch.  Sun is shining and it’s one of the nicest days of the summer – I should definitely go enjoy it outside.  Instead, I lay down on the couch and wake up hours later.  Feel sick with guilt over a beautiful day spent sleeping.  Drag myself off couch and vacuum house so that I feel like I’ve accomplished something.  Make dinner, watch movie, cuddle with husband.  Go to bed early.

My day, as it turned out, was my no means a bad one.  In fact the evening dinner and couch cuddling was wonderful, and exactly what I wanted.  But I couldn’t help but feel frustrated that I had all these great intentions and things I wanted to get done, and my body just literally wanted to do nothing.

I know that pregnancy is going to bring certain limitations and that expectations need to be adjusted.  I know that my body is going through a million different changes, and all of those take energy from me that I would otherwise have to put towards projects and activities.  I know all of that.  But sometimes, I just need to feel bummed for a day.  Bummed that I can’t quite hang like I used to.

And so Saturday I had a pity party.  And then on Sunday, instead of repeating the same cycle, I took it easy.  I knew I wanted to go to yoga in the afternoon, so instead of wearing myself out at 8am with a long walk, I got up and relaxed.  I did easy work that wouldn’t tire me out, checked some small tasks off my list, and felt ready and excited for yoga when the time came.  I guess in this stage of pregnancy I need to have more days like this – planning for an adjusted activity level instead of trying to just plow through the day (and then crashing).

While the physical changes of pregnancy have certainly been a huge adjustment, I’ve found that the emotional and mental aspects of being pregnant – even though you can’t see them on the outside – have been just as intense.

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