Category: first trimester

Why The Last Month of Pregnancy is Brutal AF

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Hooray! You’ve made it to the third trimester. At the beginning of trimester 3, around week 27, You’re more than halfway through baking that little bun in your oven. You’re probably feeling pregnant, but excited. Your bump is on display. You’re amazed how the baby is growing and look forward to checking your baby tracker app each week to see what fruit your baby has grown into. You’re working on the nursery. Nesting is in full swing. You’re excited for your baby shower and if you found out, you know the gender of your little one by now! You may feel even more confident that this is really happening and overall, unless you have had a difficult pregnancy with complications, you’re probably feeling pretty good.

As you enter the 9th month of pregnancy (PS-  40 WEEKS IS LONGER THAN NINE MONTHS, DO THE FREAKIN’ MATH PEOPLE) you feel rested, excited, never felt better right? WRONG! So, so wrong. I am speaking from personal experience here, so please just stop reading if you were one of those mythical creatures who just felt like a magical pregnancy fairy floating through your ninth month of pregnancy farting glitter that cleans itself up. Because the only mythical creature I felt like during those final weeks was a fat, fire-breathing dragon.

Every month lasts about 30 days, except your final month of pregnancy, that month lasts 985 years, or at least it feels like it. The waiting game is the most brutal of all. I don’t think I’m alone here when I say by month nine, I was OVER IT. I just so happened to be pregnant through the dead of winter in New England. My coats didn’t fit. Trying to squeeze my wide load into layers of clothing was like running a triathlon. My gigantic belly made me so unsteady on my feet that I was afraid to go outside for the fear of slipping on ice. I became a hermit that lived in flannel pajamas. My hip hurt so badly I’d shriek like a puppy who’s tail just got stepped on with almost every step. My husband had to help pry me out of bed 15x a night so I could get up to pee. I couldn’t breathe and I had to sleep upright or else my throat might have caught on fire due to horrendous heartburn—just another reason why I felt like a fire-breathing dragon. Every time I looked in the mirror my body looked more and more like an orangutan. Everyone and everything annoyed me. And don’t even get me started with the hemorrhoids. My doctor confirmed I had hemorrhoids—yes, I made her take her headlamp down there and confirm, these were new to me and I wanted to make sure they were normal. She confirmed they were an unfortunate but totally normal symptom of late pregnancy  (so. much. pressure. down. there) but lucky for me, they didn’t seem “too angry.” Um…to the pregnant ladies with the “angry version” of hemorrhoids, I commend you. TMI? Not on this blog.

To prove that I’m not alone, I asked some friends who have been through it to tell me how they really felt when they were in their last month of pregnancy, and their answers did not disappoint:

“I felt like a manatee. I was always thirsty and searching for an air return to cool off my vagina which was so puffy and swollen it looked like a sea urchin. I basically was an aquatic sea witch in heat. Also, I sat on anything cold from the freezer. Sorry honey, can’t eat those peas, I sat on them” – Anonymous Friend 1

“No matter how thankful I was to be pregnant, the end was rough.  Imagine trying to prep for baby knowing everyone in the room is going to see your va jay jay so you try to shave but can’t see down there. I felt like I was carrying around an 8 lb Butterball Turkey pressing on my bladder. But THE WORST though, was they say to rest before baby comes but trying to sleep was awful. Baby was pressing on my nerves and my hips and thighs would go numb. I would toss and turn all night because if it. Plus pelvic floor? What pelvic floor? Better have that panty liner in. Fun times.” – Anonymous Friend 2

“I felt like a beached whale. Do beached whales cry a lot?” – Anonymous Friend 3.

On top of all the physical ailments that tend to plague women in their final month of pregnancy, the one thing that was most bothersome to me was the anxiety and nerves. This was my first pregnancy and therefore my first labor & delivery and I was terrified. Terrified of the unknown, terrified of when and where I’d go into labor, terrified of how delivery would go and if I would get the epidural in time—because YES CHERYL I PLAN TO GET AN EPIDURAL , NOT LIKE IT’S ANY OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS HOW I BIRTH MY CHILD. (See reference to everyone and everything annoying me, above.) I also had an irrational fear of going past my due date, because I was just so uncomfortable and anxious, the thought of crossing my due date off my calendar and moving to the next seemed like some messed up kind of torture.

When bi-weekly check-ups with my doctor turned into weekly around week 36 and my doctor began checking me for any signs of labor, I weeped when she told me no. She handed me a tissue and said “all babies come out, one way or another.” Not really what I wanted to hear, but she was right.

Now that I’m on the other side of pregnancy and type this as my baby naps outside of my body, I still remember very clearly how much those last few weeks sucked. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But I do know that motherhood really is a sacrifice in so many ways, and pregnancy is just part of the journey. As crazy as it sounds, I thought people were insane when they told me I’d miss it, but I kind of do. Feeling those little kicks—even if they were straight to the bladder—is a feeling that you truly can’t explain and I guess it is kind of magical in a glitter fairy kind of way.  So, to those mamas out there in their final month of pregnancy, you got this! Soak up the last weeks of those baby kicks, because your little one will be here soon and it will have been worth it, promise.

Pregnancy Part 2. Hey There Placenta Previa.

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Once I emerged from the dreaded first trimester, I was feeling a whole lot better and whole lot more confident that this was real. The chronic nausea was behind me and onions were no longer something out of a horror film for me. A baby bump had emerged and so had the maternity leggings. Things were really moving along!

My second trimester of pregnancy was mostly uneventful, and for that I am grateful. I still cried all the time, but I would soon learn that the tears would stay with me long after the baby was born. Cooking became a thing of the past pretty much from the beginning of my pregnancy. I used to love to cook but while simultaneously cooking a new human in my oven, it just seemed like an exhausting chore. And although I wasn’t nauseas anymore, raw meat still made me queasy. Also, when I did attempt to cook, I would ruin every meal I attempted, or I’d burn myself! I swear, has this happened to anyone else? Where you just totally lose all cooking ability or the desire to? It was a very odd symptom I didn’t expect.

In your second trimester, you are still only seen by a doctor once a month, unless there are any issues that require you to be seen more often. At my 19-week anatomy scan, they confirmed we were having a boy (we had found out at 13 weeks via NIPT blood screening) but they also found that I had something called placenta previa, just another one of the many terms I would learn over the next 9 months.

Placenta previa is essentially a condition where the placenta (the organ that is connected to the umbilical cord and provides oxygen and nutrients your baby) is too low in the uterus, therefore blocking the cervix, AKA baby’s exit door. A normal placenta rests above the baby, but mine was below him. Placenta previa is somewhat rare yet not totally uncommon. It’s said to effect less than 200,000 pregnancies per year; however my doctor was confident that my placenta would move upward before baby was due for his exit. In an effort to learn more, I spoke to a lot of friends of mine who had given birth before, and found a few of them also had placenta previa and it did in fact correct itself. To me, this was just another example about how being open about things that are going on in your motherhood journey can help make you feel less alone. If placenta previa does not correct itself, it means the baby has to be born via c-section. Which is not the end of the world, but ultimately was not my first choice.

What happens if you’re diagnosed with placenta previa? The answer; not a whole lot. I was put on “pelvic rest” at that doctor’s appointment and was scheduled for another ultrasound a few weeks later to check on the placenta’s progress. What is pelvic rest you ask? Basically, it means you can no longer work out, lift heavy things, have sex, or put any foreign objects in your vagina—ya know, in case you were planning to. The reason for this is because the placenta is so low (how many times can we say placenta? Placenta, placenta, placenta…The limit does not exist) that there is a high risk of bleeding. Bleeding during pregnancy = no bueno.

While I was grateful to not be on full bed rest, it was also discouraging to be given limitations. I was only halfway through my pregnancy and already I was being slapped with a list of can nots in addition to the can nots of coffee, wine, soft cheese, deli sandwiches, the finer things in life, etc. It was about 6 long weeks until I was seen again to check on the status of my placenta. I scheduled that appointment for the same day as my glucose test—the test every pregnant woman dreads that checks for gestational diabetes. You drink a horribly sweet syrupy drink, wait and hour, and then have your blood drawn to check how your body responds to the sugar. If you “fail” this test, you have to do it again, and the second time, you have to wait three hours and get your blood drawn every hour on the hour for those three hours. I do not handle blood well—something I’d have to get over as my pregnancy continued—more on that later. So I did not anticipate handling the glucose test well. I was right, I fainted in the waiting room of the lab and had to lie down on the table adorned with puppy posters and reserved for pediatric patients (see main photo in this post, thanks for the pic, husband!)  As embarrassed as I was, somehow I passed the test.

After the glucose test, and after assuring the nurse I did not need a wheelchair escort, I went into the ultrasound room to check on the placenta. I was confident it would have headed north by then, but my confidence was quickly squashed when they pointed to the screen and told me it had moved slightly, but not enough to be in the clear. The placenta needs to be a minimum of 2 cm from the cervix to no longer be considered a previa, and mine had only moved 1 cm. It was really disappointing, but it was out of my control. We continued to monitor my placenta well into my third trimester. Eventually I was told it is the most stubborn placenta the doctor had ever seen, but it had moved  the 2 cm it needed to (although they had hoped for a lot more) and she felt confident I wouldn’t need a c-section. Since my placenta was still considered “low lying” there was still a risk for bleeding, so I was kept on pelvic rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. Hey, at least I had an excuse not to workout, although my initial pregnancy goal was to stay as fit as possible to help make delivery easier. I was also very worried because I was told there is a higher risk of bleeding during delivery, but because I had planned to birth at a hospital, I would be closely monitored in the event bleeding did happen. *Spoiler* placenta previa ended being the least of my worries during the delivery of my little one, and caused no complications.

On a positive note, placenta previa gets you way more sneak peaks of your little bun in the oven as many more ultrasounds are needed! A normal pregnancy usually only gets 2-3 ultrasounds in its 40 weeks, but I got at least 8—enough to fill a whole album with ultrasound pictures!

Did you have placenta previa? Did it correct itself or were your required to have a c-section? Share your story in the comments!

 

Pregnancy, Part 1. Shock. Relief. Onions.

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Anyone who has ever been pregnant will never, ever forget the moment they first found out. I can say that with a great deal of confidence. For me, it was about 11 months ago but I remember it clear as day. I am a military spouse, so my husband and I move to a new state, territory, or town every few years. In July of 2018, we had just relocated to Rhode Island from North Florida. When I say “just” I mean, we had arrived in Rhode Island a mere 10 days prior, our recently purchased home was bare as can be and our household goods (military move term for furniture and all other worldly possessions) had not arrived yet. We were splitting our time between a mediocre airport hotel and our barren house, when I began to notice my emotions were really, really out of whack. Moving is a stressful time, but I was a hot mess express. My period was also late, but that wasn’t really uncommon for me. I decided to take a pregnancy test. It was negative, so I chalked it up to PMS and legit just being a basket case who doesn’t handle stress well. 

A week later, I was still super emotional, so tired and still no period. It was a Friday afternoon, I had left the hotel to visit with our geriatric cat in our unfurnished home when I decided maybe I should take the second test that had come in the box. Totally expecting it to be negative again, I took the test. To my complete and utter shock, a second, although very faint line appeared.

HOLY. S*%T. I said over and over and over again, while pacing the empty house (empty aside from a half-deflated air mattress and empty Starbucks cups) we had just purchased sight unseen. HOLY. EXPLETIVE. I was elated, I was scared, but mostly I just couldn’t believe it. I had taken my fair share of tests and that second line has NEVER appeared. And here I was. Completely alone (aside from my Hubby & elder feline friend) in a new state, in an unfurnished home, and now, NOW the second line appeared. I was so nervous to tell my husband, but once I finally did he couldn’t quite believe it either! We were going to be parents. Times were changing…

Those first weeks between the time time you see the second line and the time you’re seen by a doctor are completely nerve racking.

*Note to future self; EVERYTHING is going to be nerve racking from this point forward. Get used to it.*

Generally, your OBGYN (oh yeah, just moved so had to find one of those too) will not see you until you’re estimating to be about 8 weeks along. So, from the time I took the test to the time I was seen was about 3 weeks of agony. Pregnancy is really just a 9 month waiting game. You just want to know what’s going on in there. Is this really real? Will there be a heartbeat? Was this a false positive, even though I took 4 tests? Eventually, we were seen and I remember the moment well. I was squeezing my husband’s hand, ultrasound probe lodged well up my lady bits, when the ultrasound tech pointed to the screen and showed the little blurb and the tiny fluttering of a heartbeat, and said “Congratulations, you’re pregnant”. I let out the longest exhale and realized I didn’t even know I was holding my breath. I just felt so relieved and so grateful. Everyone asked me if I cried; I didn’t. I saved the tears for completely ridiculous moments that shouldn’t warrant tears, but the feeling of relief in that moment was like I had just lost 15 pounds off my chest.

The tech assigned me a due date of March 30, 2019, which in late July of 2018 seemed like a million years away. I went into that appointment thinking I was 8 weeks along, but they told me baby was measuring 6 weeks 6 days, meaning I likely ovulated later than a woman with a regular cycle, so the conception was later than we had thought. So, I got to start week 7 over again. And let me tell you, starting a week over again when you have pretty terrible morning sickness is not fun news. Everyone says by 13 weeks you should start feeling better, so every day you cross of your calendar gets you one step closer to the light at the end of the 13-week tunnel of hell. Luckily, I never vomited, but I was nauseous 24/7 with MAJOR food aversions.  I mean, MAJOR. I would gag and sob uncontrollably at even a cartoon illustration of an onion, and pre-pregnancy me loved onions.

To this day I’m mortified about an incident that happened involving onions being served to me after begging the waitress to please hold the onions. One of the hardest things about the first trimester is you don’t look pregnant just yet, so it’s hard to blame being a picky eater or an emotional basket case on your pregnancy, at least to strangers. I looked down at my plate and saw some red onions casually laying on my plate and totally lost it. I had to shove my husband out of the booth so I could frantically run to the ladies room like bat out of first trimester hell. Let me paint you a visual… I slid out of booth as dramatically as possible, tears streaming, one hand covering my mouth in case of vomit, one handle flailing in hopes of building more momentum/speed to the bathroom. Like a pregnant road runner. When I returned to the table about 20 minutes later, my plate had been replaced with an onion-free version, but the damage was done. My ego and my nausea needed to go home. My father-in-law was there, I’m sure completely mortified to be in the presence of such a lunatic. From that point forward, all I could eat was plain cheese pizza. Like, garbage pizza, the kind that doesn’t show a spec of a real basil leaf or tomato or I’d cry some more. Saltines were found in every purse and on every surface of my home, crumbs always in my bra, and ginger ale was my only saving grace.

Those first 13 weeks were brutal. I felt terrible every waking moment, and I was a nervous wreck. On the few days I didn’t feel bedridden, I worried something was wrong. The sickness was almost something tangible to tell me things were okay in there. The first trimester is known to carry the highest risk of miscarriage, happening to about about 1 in 4 women. And although miscarriage is fairly common, it doesn’t make it easier, or less scary. Many women, myself included, did not publicly share our pregnancy news until we had emerged into the second trimester, as to not have to share the news if we had lost the pregnancy. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do for our family, it’s what society told us to do. Struggle through your nausea and fears alone. Even though we were blessed with a healthy, full-term baby in the end, and I did not suffer a miscarriage, it makes me think how isolating it would have been if I had. Many women and families out there suffer in silence and it breaks my heart to think about.

Shock, Nausea and the fear of onions did subside as we emerged into the second trimester. By week 15 I was feeling much better, slightly more confident that this was real, and overjoyed that I was finally able to share the news.

I want to hear what your first trimester of pregnancy was like! Were you sick? Were you surprised? Were you scared? Share your story in the comments below!