Okay, just now I was laying in bed and feeling not kicks, but swathing large movement. So I rolled up my shirt to view my tummy and I watched a rolling ball of something pass past my bellybutton.
You can be intellectually prepared for such a thing, but not emotionally. Emotionally? I gapsed and went, "OH my GOD!" Oh man, oh heck. That was weird. Weird. I have something nearly viable inside me and it's rearranging me and feeding on me and floating around like it owns the place.
Pregnancy is a means to an end. I want a child, this is how it's done. I never fully appreciated how all-encompassing this is physically. I want to step outside my body and go for a long walk without my feet hurting, in one of my pretty dresses. And then have a few drinks. Wear some less sensible shoes.
Then I'd be happy to suit up into the pregnancy body again and get back to business. Oh, but there's none of that. And nursing of course will dictate my wardrobe for some time, that and an inflated body recovering from this whole ordeal.
I can't wait to actually meet my child. If it weren't terribly dangerous, unhealthy and distressing, I'd be more than happy to just give birth now.