Round-belly roundup

"What are you smiling about?" Justin asked me.

We were laying in bed, my leg lazily thrown around him, our stomachs pressed together. Noah was sleeping in his crib. It was just the two of us, the way it used to be, staring at the ceiling as darkness gradually seeped into the room.

"I just can't believe I was pregnant," I said.

"Yes, yes you were."

"It feels like a different life, doesn't it?"

"It really does, " he said.

But it was this life. This life that I was growing my future life. Right there, right in my stomach.

The point is, it's like someone smudged my pregnant memories, one month bleeding into the next, until here I am, a mother, and how did this happen?

I've been trying to come up with pregnancy posts because there were so many WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? moments. But I give up. So here's a basic round-up:

No one told me that...

1. I'd cry. A lot.

And not happy tears. Granted, I was taken by surprise, but I always envisioned how I would tell my future husband that we were having a baby, like how Aunt Becky cooked baby ribs and baby corn for Uncle Jesse. Me? I collapsed into Justin's arms, sobbing, repeatingThis isn't how I'm supposed to feel.

2. I wouldn't know that I was pregnant.

I wasn't nauseous. No morning sickness. I had a light period. My boobs weren't sore. We were using protection. The only reason I took the test was because my mom was convinced my extreme exhaustion meant I was pregnant. When I took the test, the second line (which appeared immediately) was very faint. WHAT DOES IT MEAN IF THE SECOND LINE IS FADED? was my exact declaration of pregnancy from behind the closed bathroom door. Still unsure, I took another pregnancy test the next morning.

Yup, still knocked up, I told Justin, crawling back into bed, not wanting to ever get up.


3. Coco butter is garbage.

I applied it every morning and night, yet when you gain more than half of the pregnancy weight in the last three months, your skin will rip in ways that make you beg for labor.


4. My body would stop bending in certain ways after six months or so.

Like bending to the side, or reaching across my body. It felt like I was living in someone else's body — one with intricacies I was still getting used to.


5. The first "kicks" would feel like popcorn popping.


6. Having a baby move inside of me -- especially when his kicks were spastic -- would feel gross, not endearing.


7. Pregnancy sex (specifically the second trimester) is the best sex ever.


8. I'd turn into a flake.

I'd be mid-sentence and completely forget what I was going to say. I literally kept a notepad with me at all times, because when a thought popped into my head it would be a matter of seconds before it was gone. I lost my keys, my phone, my bag, my mind, on a daily basis.


Anything else to add?