And I’m mere days away from the third trimester. I feel ginormous, my lungs feel squished and I’m constantly having to sit ridiculously upright in an attempt to stretch out my torso and not feel like my internal organs are being crushed. All that and I still have thirteen weeks to go? Where am I going to fit the rest of him in???
The husband and I spent a few days in London last week (this pic was snapped in the hotel room mirror). I got to learn what it is like to be pregnant is ridiculous heat. It turns out it largely involves feet and ankles swelling to the point that it looked like I was baking loaves of bread in my shoes. That and all the rich holiday food meant that when I got home and stood on the scales it became apparent that at 27 weeks I have gained 44lbs.
Horrified doesn’t even come into it. I haven’t been able to stop eating but when I saw that number I realised that enough is enough and I have spent the last week cutting the crap and making sure I eat right. I think some of that weight must have been retained water because of the heat, but either way I have managed to lose eight pounds this week. I’d like to lose another eleven and then maintain at that until the end of the pregnancy to keep me to the total weight gain I should have had.
Yes, yes I know you’re not supposed to diet when pregnant, but really I’ve just been eating a very sensible diet. To give the example of one day last week for breakfast I had chopped banana, strawberries and raspberries topped with an organic bio yogurt, a handful of granola and a teaspoon of honey, lunch was a salad of spinach leaves, spring onions, tomato, shredded carrot, chopped apple and lean ham with a wholemeal pitta bread and some balsamic dressing, and dinner was a lamb tagine with wholewheat couscous. So I’m hardly starving myself! Right now I still weigh a few pounds more than I did after Little A was born and I cannot bear the thought of ending this pregnancy with a mountain of fat to shift when I was already 7lbs short of my little A pre-pregnancy weight when I got this BFP.
Speaking of Little A… I really thought she would have weaned herself by now. We reached a point where she was going a few days sometimes between nursings. I assumed that the trip to London would be the end of it, three days away with no boob access at all. I didn’t bother to bring a pump or anything in an attempt to keep supply going. If anything she’s had a renewed interest since I got back, including a whole new vocabulary to go with it “I want the boob. I want this one” *points*.
I’m definitely in the throes of a nursing aversion. I HATE nursing her, it makes me skin crawl and gets me so cranky and agitated. She seems to be especially fussy while nursing too, poking at me, grabbing my face, generally mucking around. I know most of the time I am sitting with an involuntary horrified expression on my face. It is so weird to me because I am so passionate about breastfeeding but this seems to be a physical, visceral reaction that I have NO control over. I’m sticking it out though, if she weans before the baby arrives then that’s fine, if she doesn’t and we end up tandem nursing that is okay too as I’m sure these feelings will pass by then (please don’t last for the next thirteen weeks!)