Well, gang, we’ve made it to the third trimester! Despite the aches, pains, insomnia, and expanding tummy, time is flying and I’m starting to feel like we have approximately zero time left before the little guy arrives. I think in the best of circumstances most moms-to-be feel the same way, but my husband and I are currently finding ourselves in an extreme version of the situation: We are in the midst of a move to a new home in a new city. Color me overwhelmed.
It all started out really innocently, I swear. We were in a one-bedroom apartment with no place to put the baby except for in a closet. (Which we considered for a short time. Kidding. Or am I?) So we started looking around at new places when I was about three months along, thinking it was plenty of time. But as any of you homeowners know, the process of getting into your home can magically become quite lengthy. We initially had it planned so that we’d be moving when I was about five months along, and little delays just kept piling up. So now here we are, everything in boxes, staying at a relative’s house for about another week while the finishing touches are put on our new place.
The problem is, though, as I’m sure you can guess, that a seven-month-pregnant woman is not a whole lot of help when it comes to lugging boxes and all of the fun that comes along with moving. And while Ryan is being so fantastic about heading up all of the manual labor (with some hired help, along with a really nice brother-in-law), I just wish I could be doing more. It’s incredibly frustrating to see your life being shuttled around by other people and not be able (or allowed) to get in there and help. Obviously I can do the small stuff — little boxes, lighter loads. And I’m great at putting up shelf paper, guys. But even the small jobs are getting uncomfortable and I’m just straight up annoyed that I’m not more useful.
Aside from the physical aspect of moving late in a pregnancy, there’s the whole mental and emotional toll it’s taking. Every night I spend a couple of the wee hours wide awake, debating whether we’ll even have a place to put the baby in time for his arrival. I feel like there are so many pieces that still have to fall into place, and there’s no way it can possibly all get done in time. On this front, too, Ryan is a champ at reassuring me that everything will be great. But it doesn’t stop the stress from creeping in. All in all, gang, I would not recommend a move this late in the pregnancy if you can help it! I would love more than anything to be serenely sewing baby blankets and knitting booties right now. Instead, my sewing machine and knitting needles are under a box of who-knows-what, in the back of a storage room.
Mamas, I know I can’t be the only one who’s undertaken a move late in pregnancy! Did you have a similar experience? Maybe your move was even later than mine. I’d love to hear your words of wisdom!