Now that I am back on my feet again there are some distressing differences between the way I moved before bed rest and the way I move now. This is shocking, since I was only on bed rest for one week, but in that time the baby managed to gain several ounces and snuggle down further into my pelvis, presumably with his arms wrapped in a tight embrace around my bladder.
At two weeks into the third trimester the waddling has begun. I lurch around, belly-first, arms wagging to help me maintain my balance, like a tipsy beer-bellied redneck leaving a tavern. Jean-Baptiste, my cowardly tabby, is confused and terrified by the way I stagger around the house, and irritated at my rapidly disappearing lap, which he considers his. Sitting down on the couch is a calculated maneuver – I stand with feet wide apart, hands bracing myself on the couch cushions, and then sort of flop backwards with a grunt. Getting off the couch again is something I don’t even consider until it is absolutely necessary (usually has something to do with my limited bladder capacity), but it usually involves rolling slightly to one side and pushing myself off.
Speaking of rolling, I suddenly can’t get out of bed unless I roll out…but turning over in bed is harder too. It takes six or seven separate instances of me shimmying my bum and then my torso over and over again until I achieve a full roll. The last time I tried to sit straight up in bed (two nights ago) I ended up on my back, flailing my arms and legs in the air like an overturned turtle.
On a positive note, since bending over makes me cringe and causes the baby to kick in irritation, I am getting really good at not throwing my clothes on the floor. Soon though, anything that is not at least at knee-level will be simply ignored until after the baby arrives and I can bend again.