We’re all different when it comes to how we deal with the discomforts of pregnancy. Some of us need little more than a belly band and a fist full of Preggie Pop Drops. Others need weekly massage and twice a week prenatal yoga. Here are the things that have been constant comforts for me across all three trimesters so far.
- A sleep bra. One of the first things that almost all of us notice about being pregnant is that the girls start to hurt – a lot. A nice, soft night nursing bra has been the best investment I’ve made in pregnancy attire so far, and I started wearing it in my first trimester. The sleep bra is like a comforting hug for your sore tatas. I resisted buying one initially because of the cost, but it’s so comfy that I sigh when I slip into it every night. I bought this surplice version from Destination Maternity.
- Yogurt maker. My mother bought this for me from Williams-Sonoma for Christmas one year, and it is the gift that keeps on giving. Fresh, homemade yogurt is full of calcium an good bacteria for your tummy, and you can use it to make yogurt for baby as well. Making your own yogurt is extremely easy, and allows you to have control over the texture, sweetness, and flavor.
- Warm blanket. My pregnancy started in August, and I’ve been shivering my way through the soggy fall/winter/spring months underneath an old flannel comforter. It is true that due to hormonal changes, most preggos feel warmer throughout their pregnancy, however a small percentage of us feel colder. My teeth chattered all the way through sweltering August, September, and October weather. Ever since I heard about the Faribault Woolen Mill Company I haven’t stopped lusting after their beautiful wool blankets.
- One expensive pair of pants that actually fits. I really don’t want to own maternity clothes because I don’t want to spend the money on something I will only wear once. I scoured thrift and consignment stores, and raided the maternity section of inexpensive big box stores that shall remain unnamed but found only ill-fitting high water pants that I considered a waste of my money. The only pants that actually fits me is my pair of gray corduroy skinny jeans from GAP maternity. Shirts will stretch with your belly, but pants are another matter entirely. If you can’t afford anything fancy, see if your favorite maternity store has a clearance section on their website. My problem (all maternity pants are too short) was solved when I discovered GAP had long and lean maternity pants, so I no longer looked like a sailor from the 1940s on shore leave.
- Dim sum. My husband calls it the crazy hunger. Going to a restaurant is no longer a relaxing experience where we sip on glasses of wine while waiting for our food to arrive. I loved talking and waiting for my food to arrive at a restaurant, but no more! Now that I am pregnant my favorite cuisine to eat out is Dim Sum. When you sit at a dim sum restaurant you are immediately accosted by a waiter pushing a food-laden cart, demanding that you choose one of the unspeakably delightful dishes they have to offer. You choose several small plates, and then 5 minutes later they come around again, hollering at you. Instant, delicious gratification.
- Chamomile belly balm. So, they say that stretch marks are hereditary and lotions and oils are useless. That may be true, but I’ve had an attack of exceptionally dry, itchy skin through this pregnancy, and nothing helps like my mom’s homemade chamomile balm. She makes it herself from essential oils, herbs, and honey from my father’s beehives – and she sells it on Etsy (you should buy it).
- Tall boots. It’s too cold and mucky here to wear ballet flats in the winter time, or I would have included those too. Since I can no longer reach to tie my own shoes, my tall boots are great when I am trying to dress myself alone. I somehow manage to wrangle them onto my foot and zip them up with minimal trouble, and they keep my feet warm and dry.
- Monthly pedicure. While we’re on the subject of feet, this is my splurge, but it has become a necessary splurge because I can’t reach my toes, which means I can’t clip my own toenails, nor can I impose upon my husband by asking him to do it for me. I have to draw a line somewhere. Once a month I waddle into a nail salon, sit in a massage chair, and have my toes done, and it is the happiest day of my month.