I know the first trimester sucks, but don’t worry—it gets better. You should really look forward to the second trimester.
In the second trimester, the nausea lifts. You won’t hate the smell of your husband’s breath. You’ll be able to enjoy all the foods you couldn’t in your first trimester, like wet spinach. In fact, it just might become your favorite food.
In the second trimester, you’re simply overcome with relaxing hormones. It’s like being on opioids, but it’s not the Sacklers’ fault. You no longer have sciatica, and you forgive all your exes. It’s bliss.
I know the mood swings are intense right now, but don’t worry—they go away in the second trimester. You’ll stop getting upset about every tiny thing and return to only getting upset about the normal stuff, like the cost of living, the lack of good TV these days, the government, the environment, and the patriarchy. So nice.
Morning sickness is soooo much better in the second trimester. For example, you may get it only in the morning.
You’re about to turn a corner, I promise! In the second trimester, you can stop taking that anti-nausea medication that was designed for chemotherapy patients. You might not, however, stop pondering the fact that even though women in their first trimester routinely have nausea that doctors deem commensurate with chemo patients, no one has thought to give them paid prenatal medical leave.
I know you’re exhausted now, but hang in there. In the second trimester, you’ll have all your energy back. And with this newfound energy, you’ll finally start that novel you’ve always wanted to write. Hell, you’ll even finish it, get a book agent, sell it to a publisher, and hit the New York Times’ bestseller list. Fun fact: Of Mice and Men was written in Steinbeck’s second trimester. Or imagine how good it would have been if he’d tried to be all second-trimestry while writing the thing.
People who say college is the best four years of their life have not experienced the second trimester of pregnancy.
The second trimester is the time to do all those bucket-list things you’ve always wanted to knock out. Climb Mount Everest, run a marathon, or hike the PCT. You won’t just be able to do all of this—you’ll want to. You’re in your second trimester.
If the second trimester were a sound, it would be Mozart. Or Taylor Swift. Whatever you prefer.
The second trimester is when you become SUPERMOM. Time to get everything ready for the kid. You don’t feel sick twenty-seven hours per day, so now’s your chance to obtain $1.2 million to buy a house in a good school district. You’re feeling so good in the second trimester that this shouldn’t be an issue.
Shall I compare the second trimester to a summer’s day? Yes, I shall. But a mild one, like the kind before global warming.
The only problem with the second trimester? It ends. If you could bottle it, it would be better than MDMA, and the FDA would authorize it as a treatment for PTSD. It’s that good.
The second trimester is best encapsulated by Reagan’s “Shining City on a Hill” speech. You’ll achieve the American Dream. All the hard work you’ve done throughout your entire life will finally pay off, and you’ll be able to enjoy the fruits of your labors. If you’re in your second trimester at age sixty-five, you’ll get to retire, as Americans were always meant to do. And finally, at long last, you’ll enjoy world peace. We all will. That’s what the second trimester is all about.
I guess what I’m saying is, I know things are bad. But they get better. In the second trimester. Just don’t get me started on having a newborn.
