You know you’re in the third trimester when…
- you leave work, pick up your toddler from daycare, and by the time you get home are so exhausted from all that effort that you are too tired to make dinner… or even dig out the take-out menus. No, really.
- you get into an argument with your husband about how to temporarily rearrange the furniture to accommodate the Christmas tree and it ends with you in tears. Apparently it’s that important to you. Or, more likely, it’s the hormones.
- you bend over to tie your shoes and realize you can’t. If you spread your legs really far apart, you can sort of bend over and let your belly hang between them, but it’s not pretty.
- you go to slip your rings off your fingers to knead some cookie dough, and realize “slipping” ain’t happening. Try “tugging them off over your swollen sausage knuckles” instead.
- you start to get really protective of your personal/free time, preferring to hunker down in your home with your family over pretty much any social engagement. You worry you look like a grouchy hermit, but then you remember that you can always play the Pregnancy Card and be forgiven just about everything.
- you start feeling really sappy about everything and want to send letters and emails to pretty much everyone you know, telling them how important they are to you. Except, being a totally random gesture, that would probably weird them out, so you drop the idea and eat a big bowl of ice cream instead.
- you spend twenty minutes slowly rolling around, readjusting pillows, and audibly grunting in an attempt to get comfortable in bed and ease the pain in your hips... only to realize that you have to pee. Again.
- you complain about how much the baby is kicking your bladder or ribs or how uncomfortable it is when s/he stretches out in all directions at once, simultaneously taking your breath away and making you double over in discomfort. Then you feel guilty for wishing your healthy, active baby moved less and burst into tears for being such a terrible, ungrateful person.
- the out-of-control sex drive you had during your second-trimester-glow has suddenly been replaced by the don’t-even-think-about-it defensive maneuver. This mostly involves the evil eye and straight-up shoving.
- you realize that you are just 7 weeks shy of being officially “full-term” and that sometime in the next 7 to 12 weeks you are going to have a newborn to care for. In addition to your toddler. And you’ll be leaving a job you love to stay at home again. And everything is changing. Depending on the moment, this either makes you elated (Pregnancy will be over! So many new great things will happen!) or absolutely f-ing terrified. And sad. And you burst into tears.
Have anything of your own to add to the list?