Friend of Friend Knocked Up: Give advice!

So, I wonder if I shouldn't make a little synopsis of pregnancy. The cliff notes, as it were. First Trimester: You're excited and nervous, and seriously wondering if you lost your mind when you decided not to use birth control. That is until you get morning sickness, and you stop thinking altogether and just wish someone would kill you.

Early Second Trimester: You begin telling people about the bun, who also wonder if you lost your mind when you decided not to use birth control. It is possible that you may get an ultrasound, in which you see this nebulous blob that they tell you is unquestionably your child. You may choose not to believe them. Also, your pants start getting too tight, and people who don't know you're pregnant may think you've been hitting the beer a little too much. But, you're pretty comfortable, you can still see your pubic hair, and you've got this plump, curvy appeal that just makes you look sexy. Food becomes all, which is a relief since you actually lost weight the first few months. Don't watch horror movies, don't watch news magazines that portray the wretchedness of human existence, don't watch the news if you can stand it. It will make you panic about everything. Also, if you start getting extremely neurotic, stop reading the pregnancy books, too. They are mostly written to make you feel incompetent and paranoid.

Late Second Trimester: The shit ain't so funny anymore. If you're short, you're going to look like the Hindenburg. You'll even grow out of your maternity clothes that those big liars at the maternity clothing stores tell you will fit throughout your whole pregnancy. Later ultrasounds reveal that you are in fact having a baby and not a crustascean, which is terribly moving and pretty scary. They might tell you the sex of the bun, which in our case was a surprise, but not an undesirable one (I mean really, how could someone want one over the other?). You waddle. You bump into things. And your inclination to clean and paint is excrutiating, but everyone tells you, "You're pregnant, you idiot. You can't use floor stripper right now. And get off that scaffolding, you can't wash the windows on the second floor." The little guest begins tap-dancing on your ribs which is very exciting. Partners, husbands, boyfriends, the word of the day is: SNACKS. If you don't know what they are, as we surely didn't, learn. The life you save could be your own.

Third Trimester: I'll have to get back to you on that.

So, congratulations on the big news! I know I don't make it sound like a fabulous thing, this pregnancy ordeal, but it is pretty amazing. I mean, you're host to this little critter who will greet you in nine-ish (more like ten) months a fully-formed little person. And you get to carry him/her around in this extremely personal way! That's pretty great! As much as I bitch, I find it a moving and exciting experience.

And besides, we all know that being all saccharine and gooey isn't nearly as fun to read as being caustic and irreverent. And I'm so much better at the latter...