Someone please tell me… when is the nesting phase supposed to kick in?
Because I’m 30 weeks pregnant, and all I want to do is sleep or eat.
That’s it.
If I’m not scrolling TikTok or Instagram, there’s a 95% chance I’m unconscious. I swear I sit down thinking, I’ll just rest my eyes for five minutes, and suddenly it’s an hour later and I’ve somehow time-traveled into the future.
Everyone talks about this magical nesting instinct like one day you wake up possessed by the spirit of Martha Stewart. Suddenly you’re organizing baby clothes by size, labeling bins, deep-cleaning baseboards, sanitizing bottles, and meal-prepping enough freezer meals to survive both postpartum and the zombie apocalypse.
Meanwhile…
I’m over here celebrating because I remembered to load the dishwasher.
Gold star for me.
I think part of it is just that the third trimester is genuinely exhausting. Growing an entire human being is apparently a full-time job that forgot to mention overtime pay.
But I also think I’m still mentally catching up.
I only found out I was pregnant 12 weeks ago.
Twelve.
Weeks.
One minute I wasn’t pregnant, and the next thing I knew I was somehow already well into my second trimester. There wasn’t a slow build-up or months of anticipation. It felt like the universe skipped the tutorial level and threw me straight into Chapter 12.
Then there’s the fact that I had to move in the middle of my pregnancy.
I’m incredibly grateful my parents opened their home to me, and I know how lucky I am to have that support. But as thankful as I am, it doesn’t quite feel like my home. Hector and I are still living apart while we figure out our next place, and everything feels temporary.
It’s hard to feel inspired to organize a nursery when you don’t know where the nursery is going to be.
You can’t really “nest” when you’re still looking for the nest.
I’m hoping that once Hector and I get our own place—hopefully by August or, at the very latest, the beginning of September—that little nesting switch finally flips. Maybe I’ll suddenly become one of those women who spends an entire Saturday folding tiny onesies while debating the optimal drawer organization system.
Maybe.
Right now, though?
I’d rather take a nap.
Honestly, this whole pregnancy has felt like the beginning of a sci-fi novel.
You know those stories where pregnancies are weirdly accelerated and everyone acts like that’s completely normal?
That’s been my life.
I blinked and somehow I’m 30 weeks pregnant.
The symptoms have been just as dramatic. I went from wanting to eat literally everything to somehow being starving while also getting sick over the most random foods. My ribs constantly feel bruised, my back feels like it got into a fight with a Greyhound bus, and every day one of my ribs seems to announce that it’s filing for resignation.
It’s very rude of my skeleton, honestly.
Basically, I got the Twilight pregnancy experience… just without the craving for raw meat or blood.
And unlike Bella Swan, let’s all hope I make it through childbirth without needing to become a vampire afterward.
So if anyone is expecting me to suddenly alphabetize diapers, color-code baby socks, and reorganize every cabinet in the house…
We’re still waiting.
Maybe my nesting instinct is just running late.
Or maybe my version of nesting looks a little different. Maybe it’s making sure I always have ice water, snacks within arm’s reach, and the world’s comfiest pillow before settling in for Nap Number Three.
Honestly?
That feels like preparing for motherhood too.
If the nesting instinct decides to show up before this baby does, I’ll gladly welcome it.
Until then, I’ll be over here… resting my eyes.
