“Every woman likes to be pampered. When you are expecting, it becomes more important that you pamper yourself to stay happy…”
Raise your hands if you’re tired? I would but the concept of lifting a limb is too much right now.
Alright, that’s a wee bit dramatic but the last couple of weekends have been exhaustion write-offs (FYI: my bloodwork is fine, iron levels all good). Last weekend a trip to Bournemouth saw me stretched out on the floor of my grandparents’ flat. They’re meant to be the tired ones! This weekend, there was lots of sleeping time (I was in bed at 8.30 on Sunday) and plenty of accompanying teary time to boot. Cleaning the bathroom required three or four heavy breathing breaks… What happened to the Charlotte that blitzed through things faster(ish) than Usain Bolt?
I’ve been told by a friends, family and the media that I need to relax more. Relaxation is the key to a succesful and apparently, alert-ful, third trimester. But how does a person relax when there’s so much to do? There are kitchens to clean, meals to cook, cats to re-home, breast-pumps to buy…
I checked out trusty Google and found a few common suggestions, each designed to make me Zen:
Number one = Indulge in food
I have been doing this to an extent, but the compressed stomach feeling post-meal has taught me that indulgence comes at a cost. A painful, burpy and acidic cost. It has been nice to eat lemon curd again though.
Number two = Go to a spa
This isn’t something I feel I can spend on freely – my stressed brain can’t bring itself to spend unnecessarily when it knows that a period of SMP-only income lies in my future. I can’t tell you how much time I spend checking and re-checking my budget spreadsheet. Luckily my husband thought ahead and bought me a maternity massage voucher for my birthday back in June. This weekend I finally got round to using it.
Did I enjoy it – yes, I like a firm massage – but did I come out feeling relaxed? Not really. As the lovely masseuse noted, I have a lot of tension in my back so the massage was actually darn painful; she said she’d have liked to have worked longer because that area was in dire need of it. While she might simply have been trying to sell me more treatments, the groaning sound I make every time I stand up suggests otherwise; I regularly look a like a clockwork doll, haltingly heaving myself upwards.
Number three = Wear something pretty
Hmm… wearing something pretty means buying something pretty, and doing my hair and my makeup. Removing my makeup afterwards!! Bending over to put shoes on…sounds like a lot of effort to me. Not very relaxing.
Number four = Get a pedicure or foot treatment
Hahahaha I’ve had one pedicure in my life (over in Vietnam) and I still cringe at the sight of them shaving the tough skin from my heels. I am a barefoot gal, I resent putting shoes on when I go outside and I would feel bad for anyone who cared for my tootsies only for me to squash their hard word on the pavement.
I must say, Husband has been wonderful here, grabbing my feet and kneading them at random moments. I recommend his foot rubbing skills and am willing to hire him out (£10 p/h) to others in need. If anyone is interested it would help me get the money together for that second massage or to buy something ‘pretty to wear’.
The reality of pregnancy (for me at any rate) is that normal life must go on and in my 
normal life, there’s not much time to relax and recuperate; 10th November is the next weekend we have without something in the diary and that’s the way I like it. With our plans to see people falling through this Sunday I sank into a bit of a funk. I know it was good for me – and for Spawn – to lie in bed and watch a film (her health is my priority of course), but my brain can only cope with so much downtime before it protests.
So how does a person like me relax pre-Spawn? How do I not do? Or is there a compromise to be found? With ten weeks to go, I’ll be interested to see whether my back and bump force me to slow down or whether my wretched brain will win out and I’ll keep pushing through with activities planned. We’ll see.
The Honest Parent 