Journal Entry: Third Trimester (And Going Over 40 Weeks) Lessons

^^ A picture of my daily naps in third trimester because what else was there to do, and I was also tired as f*ck LOL.

Note: Much of this was written when I was IN IT at 41 weeks pregnant, but at the time of posting it, my baby boy, Tripp, has been here for 5 weeks, and he's absolutely perfect! To receive all of my postpartum and motherhood update emails, sign up here—I'm loving sharing what I'm learning along the way! Thanks for being here!

"I’m depressed." I said that to Hal in the midst of this “waiting period” for baby boy to make his debut. I haven’t been working now for just over a week, and I’ve done every birth/postpartum task under the sun: cooked everything, birth pool is even blown up and ready, washed every pump part, hung up affirmation cards.

Half the issue I’m facing, is that I’m so tired and unmotivated that even cooking, something that brings me joy, now requires me to have a full pep talk with myself and use my HER feminine discipline tools. I don’t just want to lie around and watch TV either, though, as that makes me feel sh*t about myself and even more like a fat potato. I go for two walks a day and do pilates, and I’d hang outside more in my garden and go on more walks if it wasn’t a million degrees and 90% humidity.

And then simultaneously, I’m telling myself I should be grateful, enjoying these last days feeling him inside me, and using it to just rest. It’s this push and pull in my head that only makes me feel more insane, down, and frankly, depressed.

So, I texted my doulas on my morning walk and they sent me this amazing article that I highly recommend you read. I cried reading it after their text of, “It’s normal for a lot of mothers to feel sad, depressed, and agitated.” God, it feels good to be validated during a time of your life when you feel like you’re hanging off a cliff.

I cried to Hal last night in bed because I was so tired, and then, of course, my intrusive pregnancy thoughts (anyone else walk down the stairs and have a vision of them falling down the stairs and somehow dying? Or a bad car accident as you’re driving?) made me go down a spiral of "What if I’m not ready," "Our lives are going to change forever,” and “What if I never get my body back and am depressed postpartum.” 

The reason I’m sharing all this is because I’m also the woman who has such a strong mindset, knows every tool to navigate the “gap” (listen to this podcast episode for more), and doesn’t buy into motherhood destroying your life.

In fact, as I’m telling Hal these thoughts, I simultaneously am like, "I know this isn’t true,” in my head. But when I was on my walk this morning, and then read the article my doula sent me, I was like, "Okay, I need to write this all down so that another woman doesn’t feel alone in these last days/weeks of pregnancy.

I mean, I’ve taken up PAINTING for god sake (see proof below). Hal walks into the kitchen today and asks, “Ummmm are you actually painting a canvas?” And it doesn’t matter how amazing your husband is, men don’t get it. They’re not going through the same thing we are. They’re going through their own journey, but it’s nothing like ours. 

Our husbands are not:

• Having themselves stretched to the f*cking limit physically, mentally, and emotionally.
• Looking in the mirror and thinking sometimes, "I hope I get my old body back."
• In the middle of the internal battle of “I should be grateful” and also “this sucks” as they’re growing human life (seriously, don’t post about your pregnancy online if you want to energetically protect yourself. I’m flabbergasted by how women hold ZERO empathy for other women).

Photo One:  Hal took me to Restoration Hardware because I was going out of my mind and needed to leave the house.

Photo Two: My nearly finished painting. I started painting as I needed something to make the time pass. I actually ended up really loving this and can’t wait to start painting again.

Photo Three: Last walk with baby in my belly. This was the morning of the day that I went into labour, and I thought that that day was gonna be the day, but didn’t wanna get my hopes up. But I decided to go on a walk in case it was the last one, even though I had really bad cramps.

After speaking to my midwife and going down this dark hole of, "When is my baby coming?" "Am I even going to birth a baby?" "Is there a baby inside me?" I was made to realise that I need to mentally prepare for going to 42 weeks. 

These days, doctors want to induce you at 38 weeks. Plenty of people don’t even go to their due date, let alone days beyond it. As soon as I tell people I’m past my due date, they immediately ask what my induction date is—which further makes my brain feel panicked, as though my baby is late.

In reality, I needed to prepare to have him at 42 weeks. Because as soon as I did that, I got my sanity back. As soon as I learnt that most first-time mums go 7-10 days over, and I should be expecting that, I calmed down. Suddenly, I could enjoy life again. I was appreciative of my last weeks pregnant. I got weeks, many other women don’t. Isn’t that sacred? Many women never get to experience 41 weeks. So, honestly, it was pretty incredible that I was still holding my baby inside me at this point.

Instead of waiting for him, I did things during the day. I soaked up these last "me moments" and times with Hal. I enjoyed being selfish with my time. I got things done and snapped into productive mode instead of just waiting around. I went to the DMV FOR CHRIST SAKE lol. I got those sorts of errands done. I did a bit of work.

And I went into labour at 41 weeks. Exactly. I had a funny feeling that morning that "today might be the day," because my cramps had continued overnight and hadn’t subsided by the morning. I had been having cramps on and off for about 10 days at that point, and contractions too, but often they would subside by the morning. These didn’t. But I also wasn’t trying to get my hopes up, because I really didn’t want to get my hopes up, and then nothing happened. I really had surrendered to the timeline and stopped wondering if “today was the day.“

And now, after having our baby, I can look back and be like, "Why the f*ck was I rushing him?"

He came at the perfect time. Birth should not be rushed. His lungs need to be fully developed to release surfactant to then trigger labour, and why would I want him out earlier than that? Plus, I’m such a big believer in astrology and birth dates being sacred, so he knew when he was meant to come. My rushing him was me thinking I had control over something absolutely mind-blowing and indescribable (birth itself).

Plus, it really doesn’t help when everyone around you has either had scheduled c-sections or gotten induced, so when I tell people I’m X days past my due date, they react as though I’ve said I’m 55 weeks pregnant. Being 41 weeks pregnant is not something to be concerned about. About 60-80% of first-time mums go 7-10 days over. So really, I should have prepared to go 10 days over.

But, nonetheless, those last days were filled with me turning impatience into gratitude. Gratitude that I got to enjoy my bump for longer, that my body was healthy, and that my baby knew what he was doing. Also, Hal and I got more time to enjoy, just the two of us, before we welcomed our love that physically manifested.

If you’re pregnant or due to birth your baby, my best advice is to tune out the noise.

Go inwards, surrender as best you can (feels damn near impossible as you just want to meet your baby and you’re over being pregnant, I get it), spend time with your lover, and soak in the gratitude that you get to experience 40+ weeks of pregnancy that most women don’t these days.

Also, remember that you want baby in a good position for labour, otherwise it could make labour longer and harder. So if you rush him/her and trigger labour, you might be doing yourself a disservice—she/he will come at the right time. Trust your body and trust yourself. He was absolutely worth the wait. <3