Lest we forget, this week’s email from the American Pregnancy Association happily announced: “Congratulations! You are now entering your third trimester.”
Suddenly I feel like I’ve lost a few months, as though I blinked at Fourth of July and when I opened my eyes it was Labor Day.
I guess one of the nice things about the second trimester is how noteworthy it isn’t. Everything about it was fine, just fine. My energy, appetite, sleep, and general physical processes have stayed within the range of “normal” ever since my ankles deflated in London. Mayhem is a persistent delight, squirming and kicking and growing just as she should be. My OB confirms that I am not anemic (although she recommended an iron supplement because I’m kinda close) and do not have gestational diabetes. All seems to be going smoothly.
Even my Wounded Knee Incident is unremarkable, as it turns out. “When you’re pregnant your joints loosen,” my OB told me, “and your center of gravity shifts. So yeah, we see a lot of pregnant patients with slip-and-falls.” The knee itself is healing beautifully: itching and growing stiff in the splint, predictably on schedule, just as it should be. Five more days until the stitches come out, and once they do, this will all be quickly forgotten.
When things are going well, time passes easily and without fanfare. It seems that good news is, in fact, no news.
I’m guessing that things will get more interesting in the third trimester. The weather is lightening up, we’ve got lots of people coming in for the shower, and, as soon as I can drive again, a bathroom remodel is on the agenda. Plus, the singing season (my “second job,” as opposed to the day job, which pays my mortgage) is about to start up again. I’ve got two concerts in October and, if Mayhem lets me do it, a third in mid-November. My rehearsal schedule was a mouthful last year, even when I wasn’t pregnant; but now, without Hugecase to rattle my nerves at work, the day job should be (hopefully) less of a firewalk. I think. I hope. It’ll be fun to try, anyway.
Mayhem’s due date — November 27, 2010 — is exactly three months from today. Whether or not she arrives on time (and my suspicion is that she’ll be a few days late), it’s still pretty amazing to think that there are only three months left in this whole ridiculous magical process. It always surprises me when I read comments like “I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever! Is it ever going to end??”
Because I feel like I’ve been pregnant for maybe fifteen minutes, and it’ll be over before I know it.