The Home Stretch– Reflections on These Last Few Weeks of Pregnancy

The Home Stretch– Reflections on These Last Few Weeks of Pregnancy | Third Trimester Pregnant Blog | Apollo Fields Wedding Photography

The Home Stretch

I didn’t realize what a mindf*** being 37+ weeks pregnant would be… 

It’s kind of like this:  I wake up in the morning and think to myself, ‘I could have a baby today’.  I also think to myself, ‘It also could be another 4 or 5 weeks before we have this baby’.  For someone who prefers structure and control, that’s a lot of variability.  

On the other hand, I do feel grateful to technically have made it to “term” at all, considering that at 32 weeks we had a very legitimate scare when my body started showing signs of potential preterm labor and we had our first taste of things-could-go-wrong this pregnancy.  Luckily, after a solid step back from working full-throttle and some much needed TLC, literally all of those physical symptoms reversed themselves (bodies are crazy).  

So I am–pregnant AF– and waffling between still loving it and being over the whole thing.  I had a good run of feeling pretty invincible and healthier than I have ever been, but this home stretch is REAL.  By the time the sun goes down, which unfortunately is super early these days, I’m getting pretty crippled.  My lower back tightens up, the baby begins assaulting my organs, occasionally getting a foot hooked under a rib, and no amount of cat-cows seem to do the trick anymore. 

If I drop something and I can’t pick it up with my toes, it stays there.  I now use the old lady bar to get my ass out of the bathtub.  No-shave-November applied for most of my body.  December doesn’t seem to be an exception.  I have like four pieces of clothing that still fit me and two of them belong to my husband.  In a nutshell, I’m not cute.  But then I step back and also realize that this is probably the most beautiful I’ll ever be.  I told you it’s a mindf***.   

Terrence is good at grounding me even through the most sophisticated mind/body tricks that I can play on myself.  “None of this was a guarantee” has become a bit of a mantra in our house, and that’s a pretty sobering reality, even for someone who has been sober for the last nine months.  He’s right though, it was only two years ago that we were in the midst of the ectopic pregnancy and having all-too-real conversations with our doctors about how complicated it might be to have a future healthy pregnancy.  

When I ruptured two Decembers ago, I didn’t just lose the baby but I also lost one of my tubes and a lot of blood.  I gained a mess of scar tissue and was left with a lot of “time will tell” answers.  We couldn’t have known it at the time, but I would end up getting pregnant again from the tubeless side (remember when I said bodies are crazy!?) which is crazy.  My dominant ovary is my right one, and miraculously my left tube was able to haul over to the other side, scoop up an egg, and drop it off in the right place.  Mind blowing, right??

Now, here we are, in the thick of this mess that is 2020, and also in one of the most beautiful seasons of our lives.  The days are slower than they have been in a long time, and while I busybody myself with organizing our drawers and turning our freezer into a soup kitchen, we have also been able to spend guilt-free evenings tucked up on the couch together just savoring the fact that we’re in this space together.  

Sometimes timing is perfect and tonight my dear friend Lindsey just sent me an article on this time of “Zwichen”, the in-between dimension of existence that is late pregnancy.  Putting a name to this transition period is surprisingly helpful, and quells a lot of the questioning about whether other women feel the same push-pull of living within two worlds at once.  

Everything feels like a contradiction and I’m learning to be okay with that.  Falling asleep last night, I was staring at the mound that is my belly thinking how foreign my body looks and feels, and yet being more at home in myself than I ever have.  How does that make sense?  “Pay attention to that feeling”, Lindsey told me, assuring me of the role this feeling plays in labor.  

There’s a heaviness and a lightness to these days.  A sense of anticipation and peace at the same time.  Wanting to work and be still run our biz like a boss but also wanting to nest and be home and hunkered down.  Trusting in the journey but also wondering WTF is going to happen.  So much that feels contradictory but necessary.  It is hard to label what this transitory time truly feels like, so I’ll just still to “Zwichen” and leave the rest to the cosmos.  

Photography: Mostly cell pics with a few gems by Lindsey Eden &. Lauren Wright

My Colorado Sunrise Maternity Photos

My Colorado Sunrise Maternity Photos with Lindsey and Lauren | Denver mountain photography

It was early Sunday morning when Lindsey, Lauren, and I pulled up to the location that we were going to take some photos.  We had planned a sunrise session in the mountains and it would be the first time that I would have professional photos done of my pregnancy that didn’t involve a tripod and a timer.  My second trimester “bump” had suddenly turned into the third trimester “belly” and with that, the feeling that time was moving faster than it had the last six months. 

My first trimester was a bit of a fog— falling right on top of the panic of COVID and intense quarantining, we were also navigating the anxiety of a high-risk pregnancy.  I had just enough morning sickness and extreme fatigue to actually want to be in lock down at home, and luckily right around ten weeks, the world became a little less scary at the same time that the doctors became a little less scared about us.  

Second trimester, on the other hand, was both sweet and savory.  I was no longer considered high risk and I was able to start shooting again.  Our little bean started wiggling around, every prenatal test was coming back great, business was picking up, and we slowly reintegrated into traveling and visiting family again.  All seemed to be right in the world and none of it went unappreciated.  

Here we are now, embarking on the third trimester and simultaneously pushing through a surprisingly busy “busy season”.  Our work is giving me life while I am growing a life and somehow nothing feels more natural.  But I know that this time is fleeting, and in just a few weeks, we will officially hunker down to get into full on baby mode.  Despite the buzzy/swarmy feeling that I have, I am also realizing my own desire to document this chapter. 

Luckily, my friends are just as crazy and artistic as I am because what started as just having lunch together and catching up with Lindsey quickly turned into “let’s do a sunrise maternity session by a river”.  I knew that I’d be running on fumes by then considering that the day before we would be driving out to Aspen, shooting a wedding, and then driving all the way back from Aspen.  I also know that running on fumes isn’t always a bad thing and can serve us mentally and physically at times.  So I enthusiastically jumped on board with this plan, and began manifesting my own vision for what I wanted to come from the shoot. 

I can’t quite explain why, but I wanted something that felt intense, I wanted something cold, and I wanted water.  Suffice it to say, I got exactly what I wanted. 

When I first opened the door at the location, I was greeted with a sharp windblown chill and the reminder that Colorado weather guarantees nothing.  The morning sun had started hugging itself across the horizon line, falling into its own unpredictable alpenglow as it worked against the wildfire smoke that could have easily be mistaken for rain clouds if you didn’t know better.  The campfire smell was easy to ignore against the freshness of the autumn-kissed Aspens, and we all made our way down to the river knowing that the morning was about to be magical but unforgiving. 

Nothing makes you realize the cold quite like standing practically naked in it, which was exactly how I would spend the next hour or so.  We cycled through some beautiful outfits that Lauren had brought, which were more akin to garnishes on a plate than actually articles of clothing in terms of warmth.  The light would come and go, but when it came, it would blanket my skin in a warmth much more soul satisfying than any jacket or blanket could have served me.  It was then that I started to lean into the extreme sensations rather than work against them. 

What a metaphor for birth itself, I began to think to myself as I chattered standing shin-high in the icy river.  The snow-melted water would drag across my skin with a glasslike quality while slowly I worked through it so not to get swept down over the slippery rocks.  We were all cold and we were all wet, but I would be the one physically trembling in front of their cameras.  

The affect of Lindsey’s voice changed from photographer-to-doula (both of her specialties) as she calmly told me to take a deep breath.  Just like that, my body would indeed stop trembling and I could control the previously uncontrollable chatter.  That was the “aha moment” for me, realizing that in just a few months, that very exercise and experience could serve me in labor.  

I realized that what I was feeling was physically intense, and at times downright uncomfortable.  I laid in a pricker-laden shrub, against hard rocks, and eventually submerged my lower half into the river itself.  But I also realized that I was safe, that the discomfort I was feeling would be temporary, and I was surrounded by two people who supported me.  Again, a metaphor for birth. 

I say this as someone who has never actually given birth before, but squirreling up all of the knowledge and resources possible to prepare for the experience.  We are planning an unmedicated home birth and feel very confident that this is the best route for us.  I am also practical enough to know that this is merely a plan, and all plans can become derailed.  My Type-A side wants to meticulously craft the experience so that we don’t end up on the other side of our intended vision, but my intuitive side knows that the best way to do this also involves tapping into our instincts and nurturing our emotional strength.  

Much like this photoshoot, I anticipate birth to be intense with moments of downright discomfort.  I imagine that Terrence and I will be taken to extremes, but I also imagine moments of warmth and light.  I am comforted by the fact that I will be safe and I will be surrounded by people who support me.  I know that my breath work can make my body cease trembling, even if it is temporary and I have to be reminded to do it over and over.  

I write this now on a plane back to New York a day after our chilly sunrise shoot:  I am now warm and comfortable, sitting across from my husband who will occasionally smile through his mask at me and reach out a hand for a quick touch.  What I am left with are these stunning photos from Lindsey and Lauren to remind me not only of my maternity experience, but as a way to empower us through the next few months.  I am also left with a strong sense that not all discomfort is pain, and not all pain is without purpose.  We should not fear intense experiences, rather welcome them into our lives as a way to learn more about ourselves and others.  Here’s to the next few months of busyness and stillness, discomfort and euphoria, anticipation and patience, and all the other dichotomies that I believe can – and should – coexist in our lives.  

– Heather

Photography: Lindsey Eden & Lauren Wright

Newborn Photography in Hunterdon County, New Jersey

Ryder's Newborn Photography Session in Hunterdon County, New Jersey | Baby Photographer Apollo Fields | NJ Family Photographers

I got to spend an afternoon with Erren and her sweet new babe, Ryder, recently and just had the best time catching up with this mama and meeting her adorable new love. We had the best chats as we shot together and her words resonated with me so much that I wanted her to be able to tell her story and journey with motherhood in her own words. Enjoy this special narrative and sweet photos from such a great day!

“From the moment I saw those pink lines I had it all planned out in my head.

But you my love, had a different plan all along. You shocked us all and came earth side five weeks early, and for the past ten days you’ve taught me so much. 

Unimaginable strength during the craziest of times. Selflessness during your fast and furious birth and recovery. Love that I truly cannot put into words, and can only show you for the rest of your life. I didn’t know I was capable of any of this. I didn’t know my heart could be so full.

Ryder, you are so loved. You’re grandmothers cooked meals for us, and did the dishes we left in the sink. Your Aunt, and my rock of a bestfriend brought over bags of summer clothes for our supposed fall baby, and everything I needed to recover. Your tribe of aunties lit candles that burned for days to light your way into the world.

Everyone checked in on you, checked in on us. Anxiously awaiting your arrival. And your daddy...I couldn’t ask for a better partner in this lifetime and beyond. I could go on for hours about him, but you’ll find out. You’re already his world.

We experienced every emotion in those three days we were waiting on you in the hospital- and the days after you came. The same body that had housed you for the past seven and change months, that nourished you, kept you safe, kept you warm; was being pumped with bags of fluids, steroids, countless antibiotics, induction medication. With every needle stick, IV, and covid test, my focus was on you. I’d do it over a hundred times. Take the pain for you, take the meds, the pokes and prods. 

That same body responded. And it gave your little body the strength to come into the world swinging & absolutely perfect. 

Ryder James, you are our entire hearts”.

– Erren

Newborn Photography: Apollo Fields