Winter Pregnancies Trump Summer Pregnancies
The summer of 2011 was the hottest summer in Texas in over 20 years, with 100 days over 100 degrees from June to September.
I just happened to be nine-months pregnant in August.
Yes, it was as lovely as you can imagine. Sweat was rolling off every inch of my body from the moment I woke up in the morning to the moment I laid down at night. Even showers weren’t a relief, as there was no difference when turning the dial from hot to cold. It was the most miserable I have ever been in my life.
This time around, I am eight-months pregnant… in February. February. Glorious, mild, rarely-sweat-inducing (because, it is Texas, so today did hit 81 degrees) February. I am thanking my lucky stars it worked out that way, especially since this little guy was a complete surprise.
However, I have met moms who hate being pregnant during the winter, and my mind simply cannot wrap around that idea… and here’s why!
I will be the first to admit that I look a lot better wrapped up in a cute sweater and scarf than I do in a tank top and shorts. That confession aside, I also find that I can get by with buying less to accommodate my expanding waistline in the winter. Most sweaters cover just like maternity wear and still show off a shapely bump, and as long as I keep my black yoga pants from fading, I’m good to go (looking snazzy at the grocery store and the post office)!
During my summer pregnancy, even the lows only dipped down to 86 degrees, so unless we wanted a $700 electricity bill that month, we couldn’t keep the thermostat at 65 degrees like wanted. Tossing and turning with a monstrous belly—while your skin feels like it’s on fire—does not create the most peaceful sleeping arrangements. On the opposite end of the spectrum, who doesn’t love to cuddle up under the covers on a cold night, getting toasty warm (not too warm!), and drifting off to sleep? Nothing better!
The only major holiday during my summer pregnancy was the 4th of July, and due to the lack of rain and the extreme heat, there was very little we could do to celebrate. Barbecue outside? Out of the question. Shoot fireworks? Only if you wanted angry (and justifiably so!) firefighters banging on your door. So, it was just another day of unbearable heat. This time around, all I could think about for weeks was that I was going to be four months along when Thanksgiving rolled around. It was perfect—I would be past the morning sickness phase and would be in the acceptable range to wear expandable pants. Let me tell you, it was indeed as amazing as I imagined.
This is the last pregnancy I will ever experience (sniffle!); however, if I had plans on going for another, I would absolutely try to plan for my third trimester to fall during the winter months. The Texas heat is stifling enough without having to walk around with 30-40 extra pounds of baby!
Do you have a seasonal preference for your pregnancies?