* Mapping out the locations of the nearest bathrooms and realizing that you will eventually stop caring whether or not they're clean.
*Assuring every male who works with you that the grunt that just emanated from your entire being was a reaction to a head in your ribcage, not an S.O.S. requiring immediate medical attention.
* Accepting the fact that you might end up needing someone to wheel you to your destination in a desk chair because a tiny dancer is holding a recital on your sciatica.
* Learning how not to pee when you sneeze...or at least learning how to pack another pair of pants...or how to own the wet spot. (Billy Madison tells us only cool kids pee their pants.)
* Consulting webMD to verify that your strange symptoms are frighteningly common and normal.
* Engaging in pep talks with your closet full of clothes that now pose creative obstacles.
* Embracing the ugly cry. On an hourly basis.
* Pregnancy is realizing that those familiar spaces you once navigated with ease are now riddled with obstacles in the form of your increasing klutziness and growing belly. Seatbelt? Torture device. Student bookbags and computer cords? Land mines. Shoe buckles? Pointless inventions. Couch? Quicksand. Bed? HAHAHA, SUCKER.
Dress (recent): Old Navy
Shirt: The Limited
Cardigan (recent): Old Navy
Sandals: Franco Sarto via DSW