These are my feet. Not to scare anyone, but this shot was taken a few weeks ago — before I reached maximum swellage. Frank has taken to calling them my "loaves of bread." But he is forgiven for the teasing, as he diligently offers to rub my puffy appendages every evening.
Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence
Lateefah Torrence shows off her swollen feet a few weeks before her due date. She only has one pair of sandals that she can currently wear.
Lateefah Torrence shows off her swollen feet a few weeks before her due date. She only has one pair of sandals that she can currently wear. Courtesy of Lateefah Torrence
I have never had dainty feet. Pre-pregnancy, I wore a size 9.5W — if brands bothered to make that size for us sturdily footed gals. Currently, I have one pair of 10WW sandals that I can fit into, kind of. I think they only work because the leather has stretched over the last few weeks of my pregnancy. Or not, as you can see by the marks on my feet.
Lateefah Torrence, 38, is a writer who lives in New York, N.Y. She and her husband, Frank, welcomed Dalia Joule on July 17.
I tried moving up to a size 11, but the extra length caused me to trip. The other day, I pulled my designated hospital flip-flops out of my go-bag for some reason, and I could not get them on. Flip-flops. Flip-flops, people. It was a dire day.
At my last non-stress test, the mom sitting at the monitor next to me was lamenting her child's refusal to come out of the womb and an impending induction. The nurse strapping me into the machine looked at my feet and said to the poor mom-to-be, "Someone is always worse off than you."
Seriously, it's not that bad. My swelling is not a sign of burgeoning pre-eclampsia, as my blood pressure was 116 over a fine number I don't recall at the non-stress test. Yes, my feet are as uncomfortable as they look and are often sore to the touch. I can't tell you how odd it is to stand in line at Trader Joe's and feel your skin stretching and tightening over your ankles like I'm some sort of low-budget version of The Hulk.
But I haven't had hemorrhoids, constipation, leaky laughs and sneezes, painful Braxton Hicks contractions, or any of the other third-trimester pregnancy indignities that I'm not sure I can even mention on this blog. If that's the trade-off, I'm happy to take it.