At 35 weeks, I find myself finally in the “safe window” (according to me) to birth a child who has a good chance of surviving. I still don’t expect anything before 41 weeks, and I humbly accept the mantle of progressing to or past 43 weeks—but I also hold the excitement of being ready at any moment.
I’ve had contractions periodically throughout the entire pregnancy. For a few weeks, I was in a window where I really felt the squeeze (so to speak) of desire for it to not yet be labor. We’ve come this far! I would really rather not start over now!
Now, I don’t feel fear, nor yet excitement, when they happen, but rather patience and curiosity. What will they feel like, as they gather strength? What will happen in my mind?
I got so busy in second trimester, I stopped wanting to write at all and focused almost exclusively on saving money.
In first trimester, I found that working with newborns helped calm my impatience for having one myself; and that working with pregnant folks was more exciting as I gained more personal insight into the process.
I also realized that building an online business was not going to be as simple as posting regularly and letting the masses come to pay me—so my best bet for saving a nest egg would be to take as many shifts and on-call days as possible.
And it worked! I surpassed my goal to save up for six months of postpartum unemployment, and I got to basically stop working at the beginning of October. I just had four night shifts this month, the last of which is now done.
Just as the transition from first to second trimester was stark and right on time, so was the transition from having-all-the-energy to suddenly-being-tired.
I stopped using instagram, deleted the app, found it harder to find motivation to work out, and started needing naps again.
It’s not the same depression-level tiredness that I had first trimester—I can still get up and do things. I just started needing, for example, six hours of recovery sleep after a night shift instead of three.
Third trimester also marked the beginning of visually obvious pregnancy. I only got one comment (on the steep hill where I hike) about my state when I was still in second trimester (which was “That’s impressive!”); but as soon as I hit third and went to a wedding, I had new acquaintances touching my belly (yep, that happens) and bartenders congratulating me.
I’ve been the person—once—to congratulate a stranger on their belly, just so full of excitement and affection for them that it seemed okay to share. But now I know better. Now I know why that person, just trying to do her job, barely smiled back and didn’t want to talk about it. Neither do I!
Luckily (or, rather, by design since I’ve learned enough about myself), I’ve been working a job that doesn’t require interaction with the public—and any semi-public audiences I might have are with people who are already in the perinatal sphere. (And L&D nurses and birthworkers know better than to say anything to you first, even if they can tell immediately that you’re pregnant.)
My only other social interactions have been weddings, gatherings with friends, my beloved village prenatal circle, and an herbalism class. Safe spaces, or, in the case of weddings, highly temporary ones where my partner can be my bodyguard.
When I go to the grocery store or on a hike, I do not look at anyone’s face. This makes it hilarious when someone recognizes me and I have to take an extra moment to catch up to them, but it’s worth it!
In prenatal yoga, we do an arm exercise series every class to practice coping with difficult sensations. One of the motions is pressing outward repeatedly to form a bubble, within which we are encouraged to maintain only what is helpful, and outside of which we are encouraged to keep anyone else’s opinions about our bodies, our pregnancies, or our births.
This is partly why I deleted “the app” at the beginning of this month—I’d taken in so much outside information, I was ready to balance my “gatherer” (à la Pam England’s Ancient Map for Modern Birth) with a turn toward my internal compass.
I’ve also taken to refusing to write down my to-do lists every week. My planner lies bare, save notes from therapy.
I’m approaching tasks in my favorite way: resting until inspiration comes, then following it. It’s been working remarkably well. My shower’s grout got scrubbed; my storage room got organized; my dresser got emptied and filled with baby clothes.
I’ve also played the first act of Hollow Knight: Silksong, a third trimester gift that came out at the beginning of September and that I hope to finish (at least to one ending) before birth.
I got it started thoroughly enough to make sure that that goal felt within reach, then I took a break to host a final party, and now I’m free to play it again. The trick is finding chunks of time long enough to make it worth sitting down to play.
As with the rest of pregnancy, I have some ego and some gratitude around my relatively positive experience.
I have few physical complaints. I credit the attention I’ve paid to movement and rest (and not working at a desk).
I also have a new appreciation for late-pregnancy eating patterns: whereas before I would encourage clients to eat, eat, eat—just as much as the rest of pregnancy, despite nausea or small stomach space—I’m now armed with the wisdom of farming.
I learned from my sisters, via their work raising dairy animals in the monastic setting, that it is best practice to keep the animals a little hungry in their last month or so of pregnancy, and then to feed them a lot after birth.
Not only does this encourage maximum milk production, but it helps everything metabolically function efficiently both for birth and for recovery.
Suddenly, my dwindling appetite in third trimester makes sense.
While I’m still prioritizing protein, fiber, prebiotics, and probiotics, I don’t feel pressure to keep up with the amount that I was eating up till now. Once again, I can trust my body.
Lately I’ve been yelling a lot to anyone who will listen about the stat that I’ve been hearing that 99% of births in hospitals (which means ~99% of ~99% of births in the U.S.) involve epidural anesthesia. People do not know birth anymore.
I really hope to report from the other side: was psychedelic macrodosing in fact the best birth prep I’ve done? Did the yoga help? Did I enjoy having total privacy?
I don’t know if I’ll have the motivation to write more for the rest of pregnancy, but I hope to have a lot to say after birth. I’d like to share my birth/postpartum plan document, a birth story, and an early postpartum report. Someday, I’d like to write a book.
It’s been easy to go without medical appointments. My monthly acupuncture check-ins have helped me combat some post-flight edema and potential microbiome imbalance. Most of my medicine is food.
I’m very proud of my fetal positioning, even though it may have nothing to do with my efforts. He’s been hanging out LOA for weeks and shows no sign of moving dramatically. It’s ideal! It’s perfect!
Is it because I’m a stomach sleeper? Is it because I play video games with a proper pelvic tilt? Who can say—I’m taking it as a good luck omen.
My remaining tasks (which I’m not writing down, aside from this) include adding a layer of sheets and mattress protector to the bed, doing my herbalism homework, staying active, and otherwise just making soup and freezing it continuously until I’m in active labor. Wish me luck.
Birth.DIY 