The third trimester is difficult because 1) you're tired of being pregnant, 2) you're huge, 3) you can't walk anywhere without feeling like a bowling ball is going to fall out of your you-know-what (this is much worse the second time around) and 4) your insides look like they went a few rounds with Sugar Ray Robinson.
I remember Googling, "how to survive the last six weeks of pregnancy" while T was baking. Nothing helpful came up, so this time I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Behold, the epic and awesome list of things to do during phase three of growing a human. Feel free to borrow my suggestions if you, too, are a walking incubator.
>Take more Tums.
>Put your feet up.
>Drink lots of water.
>Steal your husband's pillows so you can sleep longer than three hours at a time. Tell him the dog ate them. Better yet, tell him the baby ate them.
>Become a nudist.
>Exercise a little each day. You're coming up on an event akin to a marathon, so be wise.
>Get some fresh air.
>Stop worrying about your weight.
>Make somebody give you a pedicure.
>Stand in front of the freezer with the door open. Ponder milkshakes.
>Eat when you're hungry. And not just popsicles and pickles.
>Try to remember all the stuff you learned in your childbirth class. Realize the only thing you can recall is your husband almost passed out and 10 centimeters looks a lot bigger than it sounds.
>Make a list of stuff you need for baby. Buy the essentials.
>DO NOT PACK YOUR HOSPITAL BAG TOO EARLY. It only makes the waiting worse.
>DO NOT PACK YOUR HOSPITAL BAG TOO LATE. Then you're rushing around to find clean underwear in between contractions. Not. fun.
>Figure out if/what you want for pain management during labor.
>Get baby's room ready.
>Go through baby clothes and sort by size and season. Box up the stuff you won't need until later.
>Spend quality time with your spouse.
>Spend quality time with your other children.
>Buy yourself something nice.
>Assess your mommy wardrobe. Make sure you've got nursing camis, bras and lots and lots of stretchy pants.
>Get some dry shampoo and deodorant so you don't look like Edward Scissorhands when unexpected well-wishers arrive. Or, don't answer the door.
Or, answer the door as is and watch them run screaming for the hills.
I like option three.