It seems every pregnant woman I know has had a moment when they realize that they have gotten larger, which leads to the realization that, wow, they’re gonna get even bigger, and then freak out about it. I’m sure this is part of being ushered into the third trimester; the final stretch and the biggest you’re ever going to get.

The panic came when I realized I was having a very hard time walking. I was downtown, I was in over my head and I debated taking a cab back to my parked car. I had already done three hours of childcare, a meeting with one of my bosses, and then decided I needed to go to the Gap, Old Navy, and Pea in the Pod, because, well, I was already downtown and I needed pants. Oh, and a stop to the bank’s atm too. This was all in a time span of two hours because that’s all I paid for on my parking meter. Surprise! I just can’t move the way I used to. Walking was something I use to take for granted, I suppose. Suddenly I felt panic: how am I going to make it for the last few months? Images of me stranded on the side of the road and having to walk miles for gas and being unable to do so filled my head. Fantasies of having to (God Forbid) try and run my way out of situation and failing worried me. Thoughts of just trying to get around and being unable, simply unable, filled me with a sense of sinking doom. When Josh came home I started crying about my lack of mobility, the downtown experience, and how I needed pizza.

No surprise that Baby Schlag seemed to double in size over the last few days, as the trademark nausea, fatigue, and difficulty walking seemed to indicate. Josh gently reassured me but reminded me that, well, I had overdone it. “But you’re doing a really good job,” he said, which, while it sounds like pet behavior training, made me feel a lot better. For me it has been a lot harder to throw in the physical towel and roll over to the whims of my belly.

I had to laugh because I went to the doctor and had my first weight gain surprise: Woah! That’s a lot of pounds! When I complained about cramps my doctor offered to check the position of my cervix. I eagerly hopped up on the table, ready to go in 30 seconds flat. Everything checked out fine, which means all the discomfort is ‘within the realm of normal.’ I was actually dismayed, hoping that she would find a fixable problem instead of the usual, well, ailment of pregnancy. Why else would I eagerly hop up on the table for an internal exam?

Tis’ the time to turn my body over to the little guy, whether it’s comfortable or not.