I had *never* had any inclination of wanting to be physically pregnant. If push came to shove, I was up for adoption. I sort of actively did NOT want to do this. Except for a brief period of being willing to give up everything and change everything about myself for someone once (have kids, sell the house, quit my very good job, move out of state, etc). That wasn't so healthy in retrospect.

But here I am - starting week 33, 8 weeks to go. And I have to say, being pregnant is physically very weird. Up to November 1, it was just an array of side effects. Now, NOW, little man is his father's son, re-arranging the furniture (or perhaps digging through the laundry pile) for an hour at a time. He is moving so much. I asked the doc if it's possible that he's too active. Nope.

I have not, however, cut out 100% of caffeine. I have a small amount in the morning. But he'll also go nutty if I eat sugar. Or apparently baked chicken with an onion and garlic marinade.

But all of this is the magic bit. I think perhaps it's the feeling of motion that turns on some hormonal bonding thing. It's not that I would be ambivalent otherwise. Even though this is a surprise adventure, it's great. It's just that feeling him move is so much weirder and more cool than I could have imagined. At one point over the holidays sitting at the dinner table he moved so much he literally made me jump out of my chair.

So, as it turns out, the physical part isn't so bad. It's kind of cool finally having the bump, and feeling him doing his calesthenics. Plus, as long as he's where he is, he can't get into trouble, stick knives in the toaster, or hang out with the wrong crowd.