Notes from the second trimester

A post for the pregnant and pregnant-curious.

On Friday, I took what could be my last reporting trip before maternity leave. It was a quick overnight to a Tampa¹ — too short to see the actual city but long enough for a dusk dip in the airport hotel pool. Floating on my back, the Florida humidity heavy like a weighted blanket, I drifted into a state of contemplation: what the fuck is about to happen to me.

I’m two weeks out from my third trimester. It’s a milestone that feels exciting and terrifying. In less than 100 days (if all goes well) a baby will be here. Our baby! Everything is about to change, but how?

I paddled back to the edge of the pool. Another hotel guest walked by to an open chaise lounger. “Doesn’t get any better than this,” he said.

A surprisingly excellent milkshake (and terrible fries) at Liberty Diner in Newark airport, en route home from Tampa.

The Tampa sprint required three flights, a 5 a.m. call time, hours of interviewing and filming, plus more hours to prepare. It felt fantastic — less nausea and more energy than my other travels of late. As promised by the many women who have done this journey before me, my second trimester has gone profoundly better than the first.

I went from feeling like a heaving slug bursting with acid — sleeping with a stock pot next to the bed in case I couldn’t run to the bathroom in time, and panic eating dry Wasa Crispbread around the clock to keep nausea at bay — to beaming! with aliveness! again. I can finally choke down prenatal vitamins.

Capitalizing on the newfound zest, I signed up for barre classes to start exercising regularly again, first once a week and now two-to-three. They’re expensive ($33 per session), but each class feels like an investment to keep me mobile and strong. I credit them for still being able to haul my duffel bag on flights and comfortably walk to work on temperate days.

Baby shower pickled red onion prep in my new summer uniform: a Légoe Heritage cotton poplin shirt and very, very old Everlane shorts.

But no matter how many squats I do at barre, my body has gone full Lorax. The 6-month belly situation has graduated from petite bump to Santa-in-training and I’ve found it increasingly awkward to get dressed. Now, my daily uniform has whittled down to a few items:

• A Pea in the Pod Crop Maternity Pants, a hand-me-down from my sister-in-law that work great for the office, so I got a second pair on Poshmark.²

• All In Motion bike shorts, another hand-me-down that feel sturdy and well-made (even though I think they’re a Target brand??)

• A very old pair of Everlane shorts (like these).

• A gauzy button down I bought pre-maternity in Mallorca last October.

• This wrap tie sweater I was influenced to buy after seeing a cool-looking mom on TikTok wear it. The texture is 3x more luxurious than it cost.

• A cotton poplin button down from the same brand as the sweater that gets much more wrinkled than preferable but I love it anyway.

• My husband’s Marine Layer t-shirts. They’re so soft.

• A pair of Poeve sandals I splurged on in Rome that might be one of my favorite shoe purchases of all time. They feel like they’re made by people who know what a foot needs. I’ve worn them comfortably on my 5-mile (round trip) walk to work. (Now I’m contemplating a slingback commitment but worried that my feet could go up a size in this last stretch of pregnancy.)

The uniform rotation; I’d wear the Poeve sandals every day if I could.

Some updates from the TMI front, in case it’s helpful for other moms-to-be (or maybe just a weird read for everybody else):

• To combat the pregnancy digestive slowdown, I started taking Metamucil during my first trimester but found the whole routine deeply unsexy. The ugly plastic canister, the stirring of the powder-to-goo concoction, the chugging it down like a frat pledge. Over time, I needed more and more, and always felt bloated after every dose. So I was ecstatic when my also-pregnant sister recommended something called Oxy-Powder, a “natural colon cleanse.” I’ll spare you the details but it’s a godsend in pill form and much more effective than the ‘Muc’.

• Less of a godsend: motion sickness has still been a problem. I thought the worst of it was behind me. Then I found myself on my knees in a Frontier Airlines lavatory throwing up my breakfast. I think the problem is heightened when I have acidic foods or drinks too close to motion opportunities (car rides, flights). But even a routine Uber ride on an empty stomach makes me queasy. So whenever I can, I walk or e-bike to avoid this problem.

• A friend of mine (profiled here on Platonic Love!) was recently on a podcast and recommended “To Have and to Hold” as an “incredible book that every mother needs to read.” I bought it instantly. The book is a “clinical psychologist’s exploration of the modern dilemmas women face in the wake of new motherhood.” It gets into the more challenging aspects of becoming a parent (guilt, gender roles, etc.), and how they can impact your relationship with your spouse. One of my biggest fears of having a baby is what it could do to me and Dan; the sweet partnership we’ve built feels like the most tender, wonderful gift in the world. I’m hoping that if we both read this book, we can better prepare for some of the landmines that boobytrap the path ahead of us. TBD!

  • Other books that have been helpful lately: Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott; Expecting Better by Emily Oster; and Second Life by Amanda Hess.

    

    Boxes of baby gear and hand-me-down furniture everywhere. We’ll need to get rid of this dining room table to turn the space into a bedroom ... eventually.

• I’m knee-deep in nesting mode. Conservatively, I have 29 tabs open on my laptop of “apartment sound proofing tips” to shield our neighbors from baby cries. That doesn’t count the many minimized windows of search results for “small nursery ideas,” “newborn vaccination schedule,” and “Alison Roman’s baby registry.” Then there are the Facebook Marketplace finds, some I click on because how could you not? And others that have real potential. (My algorithm is a mess).

• Deep, deep TMI mode, for real ones only: on my reporting trip to Paris, I had to cut a short jog even shorter because I started experiencing the most insane nipple pain of my life — like I was being electrocuted from them. It became a regular issue, so severe it turned into a major barrier to wearing a sports bra (or any bra sometimes) and with that, exercising. The best fix? These silver nipple shields people use to soothe the ails of breast feeding. They work like the glass dome of a cake stand, protecting me from painful pressure.

  

  Spring rolls have been a routine craving in T2. This spread (eaten from the couch) was my crowning achievement.

We have a few more fun trips on the calendar before I’m supposed to stop flying so I don’t give birth on a plane or whatever and have to name the baby American Airlines. I’m trying not to spend these next 3 months in fear — like ‘oh no, this is the LAST MORNING WE’RE EVER GOING TO SLEEP IN FOR THE NEXT EIGHTEEN YEARS!’ or ‘WHAT WERE WE THINKING WE HAD A GREAT LIFE, NOW WE HAVE TO BUDGET FOR DAY CARE AND MATH TUTORS!’

Instead, I’m trying to cherish the special, unique moments, like people coming out of the woodwork to give us thoughtful advice and meaningful gifts and words of encouragement. Because that guy in Tampa was right. It doesn’t get any better than this.

1. For a profile I’ve been wanting to write for years! It’ll be out soon here.

2. Pants remain the hardest piece of the puzzle and almost never feel quite right — either too baggy, too tight, riding up and slipping down. Dan offered suspenders as a solution and now we’re getting divorced!