Stepping over the 26 weeks mark
As I'm approaching the third and final trimester of my pregnancy, I'm reflecting more deeply on the second one. The second trimester, from week 16 onwards, has been a beautiful time for me. After living with severe hyperemesis in weeks 6-16, I could finally enjoy this magical chapter of my life. I started to feel my baby move. I could cook and eat again. Walk again. Write again. I felt inspired, grounded and harmonious. Somehow I had so much more clarity in my mind, too, about my priorities in life. I felt protective of my time. It's been easier to prioritise projects, to say no to the things that didn't feel right.
Having said that, towards the end of the second trimester, I started to experience back and leg pain. I started to take more naps. My skin has become incredibly sensitive. I live with an autoimmune skin condition, so I'm used to skin sensitivities. Yet, it feels like my skin has been reacting more strongly to things such as light and water. I've had random skin rashes. To take care of my skin, I've been using mostly plain, unscented soap bar and water, and occasionally aloe vera gel and grapeseed oil (applied over aloe vera gel or over wet skin). My grandmother has always used aloe vera for her skin. She lives with many old aloe plants and would use the gel from their leaves directly. Personally, I went for a store-bought, purified version of organic aloe gel with some preservatives added, so that it can last longer. The grapeseed oil that I use was sold as food in our local cooperative supermarket. It cost under DKK 50 for a 500 ml bottle. It came in a glass bottle. Unfortunately, it's not organic. I use this oil to massage my tummy too. It's become a daily ritual of care for both me and the baby.
It's become more difficult to walk uphill and upstairs. Our apartment is located at the top floor, and we don't have a lift. It's also been challenging to tie my own shoe laces. After observing my struggles for some weeks, my partner gave me sandals as a gift. They are the same ones I've worn for the past 20 years or so. Now I live with 3 pairs of shoes: hiking shoes, clogs that I wear as slippers at home (they are a few years old and were a gift, too), and the new sandals. The hiking shoes have become too warm to wear in spring and summer. I've felt immense gratitude for the sandals.
My partner and I talk to the baby every day, and my partner sings Danish songs for him every night. I try to spend a lot of quality time with the baby. My stepmother-in-law gave me a physical book from her collection (Thomas More's Utopia) so that I can read something with the baby before he is born.
Spring has arrived in Copenhagen, and we've been spending as much time with the sun and in gardens as possible. Every day, I try to go for an hour long walk. And on our weekends (my partner is with my stepchild every other weekend) we go for 10 or so km walks, usually to the sea. I feel that 10 km walks are becoming too long for me, so I plan to go for slightly shorter ones or take public transport to the sea, at least some of the way.
We have received an offer for a nurse visit in connection to my pregnancy. We discussed it but decided not to accept it. While I certainly believe that medical professionals are a source of knowledge and wisdom, I've been wanting to go through my pregnancy as naturally, organically and intuitively as possible. I was dependent on medicine the whole first trimester and in the beginning of the second one, and we never miss our routine appointments with doctors and midwives both at the hospital and our GP clinic. However, if I can avoid extra appointments and classes, I intend to do that.
I've been trying to minimise socialising in the second trimester, too. To me, it's been incredibly important to dwell in my authenticity, in a serene environment and direct my energy where I felt I needed it the most (my baby, my embodied self and my writing projects). Even though I try to explain, with gentleness and care, my own approach to inviting pregnancy and baby related items into my life to my fellow humans, it is difficult to avoid unsolicited advice completely. My approach is to invite no specific pregnancy products into my life, because I don't feel that I need them, and to invite baby related items only much closer to his due date, or even afterwards. At times, I contemplate what essentials my baby will need, and then I take a mental note. I don't feel the need or a desire to buy anything at the moment, to plan. Oftentimes fellow humans ask me what the baby will wear. My approach to his outfits will be the same as to my own: no special occasion clothes, natural fabrics, no overstimulating prints, comfortable and easy to wear items.
I've come to the realisation that the word essentials is used in very different ways by fellow humans. To some fellow humans, a white noise machine or a baby bouncer are essentials. To me, they don't feel like essentials at all. This is not to say that my approach is the correct one, though. But I've found it challenging to find information about true baby essentials. My grandmother is, for me, perhaps the best source of such information: when she was young, the modern baby "essentials" did not exist. And as far as I know, she, as well as my mother, enjoyed motherhood immensely. I am also inspired by cats, pigs and other fellow animals in their approach to essentials. I am humbled by the mother cat's ability to provide everything her kittens need: food, warmth, comfort, entertainment, safety. She is enough.
Some fellow humans say to me "wait and see", assuming that once the baby is here, I will suddenly change my mind, step away from my practice of minimalism, and will "not be able to live without" all the baby gyms, changing tables, strollers and bottles. So I am waiting to see if my approach works or it doesn't.
While the reason for avoiding pregnancy related items and baby related items (at least for now) is driven by my desire to live authentically, simply and slowly, I am glad to observe the financial benefit of this approach, too. Recently, my partner and I (we are both sustainability researchers) received the news that I cannot apply for funding because of my temporary position at Roskilde university here in Denmark. This means that I need to think about relocating to a different university, which introduces more instability, including financial instability, into our life.