How I Creatively Dressed My Second Trimester Bump

我认为,因为我已经孕育了一个巴布y some two years ago that I knew what would happen to my body during my second pregnancy. I was wrong. This time, it felt likethe physical changes that were occurringwere happening in fast-forward. Mybump was visible, growing fast, and dressing around it became a daily puzzle.

Every weekday morning, after my husband grabbed my hands and slowly helped get me out of bed, I would sleepily sip on a cup of decaffeinated coffee and stare into my closet. Figuring out what to wear to my New York City publishing job felt like a chore. During my second trimester, I wanted to try and make as much of my pre-pregnancy wardrobe work. But my options were shrinking.

I had saved somekey maternity piecesfrom my first pregnancy that I wore again, like a few flowy tops and elastic-waist skirts. But I loved wearing dresses and had collected many over the years. And since my second pregnancy started in the spring, I was able to go into the office throughout the summer wearing my old dresses with one minor adjustment: I'd wear the waistline above my bump. Sometimes I would even use a slim belt to create a visible waistline above my bump; I’d wrap it just below my rib cage and give the dress a modified silhouette that left my lower half unrestricted.

The trick created comfortable, cute looks that gave my belly and hips the freedom to move and grow through the weeks. I took a similar approach with my skirts; I would fasten the waist above my bump so it would look like I was wearing a high-waisted skirt. I’d tuck in a shirt, add a blazer and have a chic outfit for work.

Another key piece that got me through both pregnancies: the wrap dress. Thankfully I already had a few of these in my closet, and I wore them regularly. The adjustable wrap-tie waist allowed my chest and belly to grow throughout the months, while giving my body definition and shape. And they’re easy to wear after giving birth, or while nursing; they once again allow a body to change and adjust in size.

Pants were a different story. In this second pregnancy, I wanted to avoid anything that made me feel constricted below the waist. I hated the feeling of fabric clinging around my legs and so, while the weather was warm, I lived in dresses and skirts.

However, I had one pair of pants that I could tolerate wearing, a hold-over from my first pregnancy: They were straight-leg black denim with an elastic waistband, and they were magic. I somehow was able to wear them throughout my second and third trimesters. The waist was so stretchy, the fabric so giving and comfortable, and I was so grateful for them.

I would pair thesebump-friendly pantswith long-fitted T-shirts, or tops that reached low enough to cover my belly and waistline. They gave me a put-together look in minutes.

Overall, I was trying to avoid spending money on new pieces that I’d only wear for a few months, and that drive definitely spurred my creativity. I even went as far as to fashion a skirt out of an oversized men’s shirt: I buttoned it up about two-thirds of the way, stepped into the shirt through the neck hole, pulled it up over my bump, tied the arms cutely around my waist and there I had it. It actually looked like a cool, architectural skirt. It was a pregnancy trick I used often.

A body part I really didn’t expect would change much wasmy feet. They remained pretty much the same throughout my first pregnancy, but this time around they started swelling in my second trimester, and I was not equipped to deal with it.

The backstory: I absolutely loved high-heel shoes—and still do! Nearly every pair of shoes in my closet has three or four-inch heels (or higher). In my fifth month, I would cram my toes into pointy stilettos, wedge my knuckles into narrow pumps, and balance my heels on what felt like toothpicks every day.

I refused to let go of my heels. Until one day, someone made a comment about my feet. It was silly and inconsequential, but it almost made me cry. I was embarrassed. But it made me think, and reflect on what exactly I was trying to prove.

My high-heeled shoes made me happy, but if I was honest with myself, they weren’t making me happy right at that moment. And so, I pulled out my flats and mysneakersand let my feet plant on the ground. I was more stable, sure, but the act in my mind meant something bigger. It meant that I was giving myself a break. And I began making more of these types of choices that were focused on my comfort, like going to bed super early and leaning on a few key clothing options. I’d be back in my heels soon enough, I told myself. In the meantime, why not take care to make sure I reached the finish line in comfort?